It put him into a better temper than ever, and he said at length: 'I suppose a fiver wouldn't be much use ?--For a month, you say ?--I might manage a fiver, I think.' 'It would be very useful.

But on no account if----' 'No, no; I could manage a fiver, for a month.

Shall I give you a cheque ?' 'I'm ashamed----' 'Not a bit of it! I'll go and write the cheque.' Reardon's face was burning.

Of the conversation that followed when Carter again presented himself he never recalled a word.

The bit of paper was crushed together in his hand.