Thorn went up to town and one evening loitered about the hall of his club. London rather bored him, but he went there now and then, because he felt one ought to keep in touch with things. It was, in a sense, one's duty to know what was going on, and the news he picked up helped him to look well informed. Thorn had not much imagination, but he was cautious, calculating, and generally saw where his advantage lay. His small estate was managed well, in general his tenants liked him, and his investments were sound. Nevertheless, he was dissatisfied; he had waited long for Grace Osborn, and feared that in spite of her father's approval he got no nearer her.

Alan Thorn was not romantic but his love for Grace was, to some extent, a generous emotion. He knew Osborn's poverty, and it was plain that if he married Grace he might have to help him out of his embarrassments. He was fond of money and had grounds for imagining that the daughter of a rich neighbor would not refuse him; but he wanted Grace and saw he could not wait much longer. He was fastidious about his clothes, and their color and loose cut prevented people remarking that he was getting fat; his dark hair was carefully brushed. He knew, however, that he was getting heavier fast and that he would soon be bald.

He had meant to go out, but had no particular object and the streets were hot; besides, after the quiet country, he liked the bustle in the hall. People were beginning to come in and one could see the crowd stream past the glass doors. Sitting down in a corner he began to muse. Although he had been in town some time, he had not seen Gerald. He had called at the latter's lodgings and found him not at home, while when he went to the bank he was told that Gerald had been sent to manage a small branch office. Thorn thought it strange that Osborn had said nothing about this and wondered whether he knew. Gerald was extravagant and much less frank than he looked; he might have had an object for hiding his promotion. Thorn understood that Osborn made him some allowance, but it was hard to see how the young man was able to belong to his rather expensive club.

After a time, Gerald came in and glanced at two or three men who stood about. At first, Thorn imagined he was looking for him, but saw he was not. Gerald went into the telephone box close by and shut the door with a jerky movement. It jarred and then swung back a few inches as if the shock had jolted the spring. Thorn, whose curiosity was excited, listened and heard the number Gerald asked for. Then he heard him say:

"Yes—Osborn! Is that Sanderson? Yes—I said Ermentrudes. Any chance of a recovery? What—none at all? Can't hear—oh, sell at once! Margin's gone."

Next moment Gerald obviously saw that the door was open, for he banged it noisily and Thorn heard nothing more. He had, however, heard enough to give him food for thought and waited until Gerald came out. The young man stood still with his mouth firmly set and his eyes fixed on the wall as if he saw nobody. His clothes were in the latest fashion, but the look of fastidious languidness that generally marked him had gone. Turning abruptly, he went up the stairs, and Thorn entered the telephone box and opened the directory. When he came out he went up to a man he knew.

"Can you tell me anything about Short and Sanderson, stockbrokers?" he asked.

"Not much," said the other. "They're outside brokers. I imagine they're trustworthy, but it's better to do business through a member of the Exchange. You'll find it a good rule."

"Thank you," said Thorn, who went upstairs to the smoking-room and found Gerald sitting in front of a table, with a newspaper that dealt with financial matters.

"Hallo!" said Thorn. "I have been expecting you for some days. I suppose you got my message?"

Gerald looked up and his smile was strained. "I did, but have been much engaged. Sit down and join me in a drink."

"What have you ordered?" Thorn asked, and shrugged when Gerald told him.

"That goes better after dinner. I'd sooner have something cool and light."

"Oh, well," said Gerald. "I felt I needed bracing. The fact is, I've had a knock—"

He stopped as a waiter came up and said nothing until the man had gone.
Then he drained his glass and turned to Thorn.

"I'm in a hole. Can you lend me two thousand pounds?"

Thorn hid his surprise. He thought urgent need had forced Gerald to make his blunt request; it was not his way to plunge at things like that.

"You asked your father for a smaller sum."

"They told you about my letter? Well, things have changed since; changed for the worse."

"They must have changed rather quickly," Thorn remarked, for his suspicion was excited and he thought he saw a light. Gerald had been embarrassed when he wrote to Osborn, and had not wanted the money to invest but to help him to escape the consequences of some extravagance.

"That has nothing to do with it," Gerald rejoined. "Will you let me have the money? You can, if you like."

"To begin with, you had better tell me why you want so large a sum."

Gerald hesitated and his eyelids twitched nervously, but he pulled himself together and Thorn wondered how far he would stick to the truth. He knew Gerald and did not trust him.

"Very well; I bought some shares. There was good ground for expecting they'd go up—"

"They went down? When did you buy?"

"Your meaning's plain," said Gerald sullenly. "If you insist, it was before I wrote home."

"I suspected something like that. However, you have the shares and they may go up again."

"I haven't got the shares. I bought on a margin, and the margin's gone."

"Then, you're rasher than I thought," Thorn rejoined with a searching look. "Well, you have lost your money and it's something of a surprise to hear you had so much. Anyhow, it was yours, and although the loss is serious, I don't understand how you're embarrassed."

"I borrowed," said Gerald, rather hoarsely. "You can wait; the other fellow won't. Then, of course, if I renewed the margin, the shares might recover and put me straight."

Thorn pondered. Gerald's statement was plausible, but he doubted if he had told him all.

"Two thousand pounds is a large sum," he said. "I don't know yet if I can lend it you."

Gerald gave him a steady look. His face was haggard and the sweat ran down his forehead. It was obvious that he was desperate.

"If you hope to marry my sister, you had better help me out."

"I haven't much ground for thinking your sister will agree," Thorn rejoined with some dryness. "Anyhow, it's doubtful if your influence would go far with her, if that is what you mean."

"It is not what I mean," Gerald answered in a hoarse voice. "I have given you a useful hint. You can spare two thousand pounds, and if you let me have the money, you'll be glad you did."

"I must think about it. You can call me up on the telephone at noon to-morrow."

Gerald hesitated, and then made an abrupt movement as a man came into the room. The latter crossed the floor and Gerald got up.

"Very well," he said, and went off.

Soon after Gerald had gone, the man Thorn had met in the hall came in and he asked: "Do you know anything about Ermentrudes, Norton? I suppose they're mining shares?"

"I wouldn't advise you to invest," the other replied. "The company has seldom paid a dividend, but not long since a rumor got about that a new shaft had bottomed on rich ore." He paused and shrugged. "Nobody knows how such tales are started, but they appeal to optimistic outsiders who like to think they've got a secret tip. Anyhow, there was some reckless buying by people who expected developments at the shareholders' meeting. They were disappointed, and are knocking prices down by their anxiety to sell out."

Thorn thanked him and began to think. He wondered where Gerald had managed to get two thousand pounds, since he imagined that nobody would lend him the sum. He did not know much about banking, but it was possible that Gerald had used his employers' money, hoping to replace it before he was found out. Then, since two thousand pounds, used for a margin, would cover a large number of shares, it looked as if Gerald had lost part of the sum by previous speculations. While he pondered, the man whose entry had seemed to disturb Gerald came to his table and sat down opposite.

"You obviously know young Osborn," he remarked.

Thorn said nothing for a moment or two. Hallam was not a public money-lender, but sometimes negotiated private loans for extravagant young men about town. One meets such people now and then at smart London clubs, and Thorn imagined the fellow could throw some light on Gerald's difficulties.

"We come from the same neighborhood," he replied.

"His father is a large landowner, I believe?"

"He has some land," said Thorn, who began to see his way. He had not yet decided to help Gerald, but if he did, his help must be made as valuable as possible. "The rents are low and the estate is encumbered," he resumed. "On the whole, I don't think you would consider it good security."

"Thank you for the hint. Osborn looked as if he had got a jar."

"I think he had. He bought some shares that have gone down sharply, and since he's a bank-clerk I expect the loss is a serious thing for him."

Hallam nodded carelessly. "No doubt! Do you know a man called Askew?"

"I know something about him. He owns a farm in the dale and has recently spent some money on improvements, although it's doubtful if he'll get much return. I can't tell you if he has any more or not, but imagine he's not worth your bothering about. Besides, he's not the man I'd expect to get into debt."

"Mr. Askew has not been trying to borrow," Hallam answered with a smile.
"Well, I promised to meet a friend and mustn't stop."

He went away and Thorn sat still, pondering. The other men went out by and by and the room was quiet except for the rumble of traffic in the street and the rattle of an electric fan. A waiter pulled down a blind to shut out a bright sunbeam and Thorn found the shade and softened noises from outside helpful to thought.

Gerald had used money belonging to the bank and borrowed from Hallam in order to pay it back; although Thorn could not see what had persuaded the latter to lend. It was strange, certainly, that Hallam had inquired about Askew, but in the meantime he could let this go. Gerald was threatened by a danger money could avert, and Thorn could help. If he did help, it would give him a claim to Osborn's gratitude, although he could not tell how far this would influence Grace. The Osborns cherished the old-fashioned traditions of their class, and anything that touched one touched all. Grace, however, was modern and rebellious, and Thorn knew she did not like him much. He was not afraid to risk his money, but he must not waste an opportunity he might not get again, and the opportunity could be used in one of two ways.

He could free Gerald from his entanglements and, using no pressure, leave her parents' gratitude to work on Grace. This was the proper line and would enable him to play a generous part; had he been younger, he would not have hesitated, but he saw a risk. He was beginning to look old and unless Grace married him soon, must give her up. The other line, although not attractive, promised greater security. Before he helped he must state his terms and force Osborn to agree. Grace could not struggle, because her refusal would involve the family in Gerald's disgrace. Thorn saw the plan had drawbacks, but Grace was young and, if he indulged and petted her, she would, no doubt, get to like him and forget his hardness. He had heard of marriages made like this that turned out happily.

For a time he sat with his brows knitted and his mouth set. He would have liked to be generous, but he loved the girl and could not force himself to run the risk of losing her. Nevertheless, he honestly tried, and afterwards remembered with strange distinctness the soft rattle of the electric fan and the dull roll of traffic that throbbed in the quiet room while he fought the losing fight. The sunbeam the waiter had shut out crept on to another window and shone on the fluted pillars before he got up. His face was very hard, for he had chosen his line and knew he must take it without doubt or pity.

Going down to the hall, he called up Gerald's branch bank. A clerk who was working late replied that Mr. Osborn had gone.

"I know," said Thorn, giving his name. "Make a note to tell him he need not call on me to-morrow. I find I am unable to do what he requires."

"Very well," said the clerk. "I'll give him the message in the morning."

Thorn rang the bell and, leaving the box, asked for a railway guide. There was nothing to be gained by stopping in London and he looked up the best train for the north.