Mr. Gluckstein In Confidence

Mrs. Astley-Rolfe invariably received her creditors in pink deshabille.

The financier, Mr. Solomon Gluckstein, original and senior representative of John Brown & Co., Jermyn Street, was particularly fond of pink, and extremely susceptible to deshabille. Whiskey-and-soda, personally prepared for him in sufficient strength by his charming debtor, increased the fondness and the susceptibility.

"Ma tear lady," said Mr. Gluckstein, with desperate firmness, "I have come on an unplethant errand."

Mrs. Astley-Rolfe pouted petulantly.

"Am I to have no peace?" she complained, from an alluring attitude on a couch. "Isn't it enough to have gone through the last two days? Look at me. I am a nervous wreck."

"Then all women wouldth with to be nervouth wrecks," said Mr. Gluckstein gallantly.

"I believe that odious detective actually imagined at the beginning that I might have murdered the poor girl."

"Nonthenth," the financier assured her.

"I have scarcely had any sleep," she went on reproachfully. "It is a wonder I am not thoroughly ill. And now you—from whom I should have expected consideration—come here with a face like a rock, and announce your intention to be unpleasant. If I didn't know you so well, I might have believed you."

Mr. Gluckstein glanced towards the door, and drew his chair closer to her.

"Let us understand each other," he said deliberately. "At the present time you owe me a large thum of money."

"Gospel truth," she admitted.

"Very much more than you could pothibly pay, if I came down on you."

She uttered a sigh of relief.

"At last you realize that!" she exclaimed thankfully. "Also," continued Mr. Gluckstein, "you owe money to various other people."

"Your veracity," she confessed, "is beyond question."

"Almosth ath much ath you owe to me."

"Quite as much," she said cheerfully.

"And you owe me," he continued—"twelve thousand poundth."

"The first time I have looked the evil fully in the face," she shuddered.

His small eyes regarded her intently.

"The last half of that—I lent to you on a certain understanding."

"Understanding?" she echoed languidly.

"Yeth."

"What did you understand?"

"That you intended to become engaged to George Copplesthone, who would pay your debths when you married him."

A quick change swept over her. She became hard and calculating.

"Well?" she returned.

"You have not become engaged to him."

"No."

"Some one elth became engaged to him." "Yes," she said calmly.

"That doth not look," he concluded, "like fulfillment of the understanding."

"Doesn't it?" she retorted.

He glanced again at the door, and came still closer.

"Lithen," he said slowly. "I have been your friendth. I have done for you what I would not have done for any one elth. I have treated you fairly, and I have never prethed you."

She softened immediately.

"You have been very kind to me," she said gratefully.

"You muth be my friendth too. I muth tell you my thecret. Promith me faithfully that you will keep it."

She looked at him in astonishment.

"Certainly I will keep it," she agreed.

"Five days ago," Mr. Gluckstein informed her painfully, "my partner abthconded, and left me almosth a ruined man."

Her face expressed genuine sympathy.

"I am very sorry," she said feelingly. "What a dreadful blow for you." "It ith unnethecessary to explain bithness details to you," the financier proceeded. "My working capital hath gone, and the fact thimply is that I cannot carry on—unleth——" he paused to give his words additional emphasis, "unleth you repay me my twelve thousand poundth in full within two months."

"Two months?" she exclaimed blankly.

"Two months," he repeatedly firmly. "That ith the utmost time I can give you. Have you any other means of raithing the money?"

"Not a ghost of one," she replied frankly. "I might as well try to push over the Marble Arch as raise a single thousand."

"Then," he said steadily, "if you do not marry Copplesthone I am a bankrupt—and a bankrupt I will not be."

"I shall marry him," she said. "I told you I should—and I shall. You will have your money."

"I believed you," he returned. "But another woman beat you."

She looked away from him.

"Did she?" she replied evenly.

There was silence for a moment. "When Copplesthone announthed his engagement to Mith Manderthon," the financier went on, "I stood ruined. I admit it. I stood ruined by your defeat. That ith the thecret that you muth keep. I was sure that you had no other means of paying me back. Nothing could save me but a miraculouth removal of the obstacle."

"The obstacle was removed," she said, in the same even tone.

He shuddered.

"It wath. The obstacle that stood between you and Copplesthone, and me and ruination, wath removed. It was a ghastly thing, and we are very thorry. But let uth be candid. It wath to our advantage."

"Yes," she agreed slowly—"it was to our advantage."

"There must not be another obstacle," he said.

"There will not be another," she replied. "George Copplestone will marry me—and you shall have your twelve thousand pounds, as I promised. You need not be anxious."

He looked round the luxurious room, and sighed deeply. It surprised her that she had not noticed before how much he had aged.

"I must begin again," he said. "I am getting old—but I will rebuild my fortune. I will not be the only poor Jew in London."

"You have been a good friend to me," she said gently. "I am very sorry."

He paused to finish his drink, but his crafty eyes never left her face. She did not meet them.

"I wonder," he said, in a slightly lower tone, replacing his empty glass on the table, "what the police will discover."

"I should imagine that there is very little to be discovered," she returned. "There seems no doubt that it was James Layton, the Mad Millionaire, as he is called. He will probably be arrested within the next twenty-four hours. It appears to be a clear case. He threatened her—in front of us all. And he was in the garden."

"It ought to be enough," he admitted, more easily. "What more could they want?"

"The evidence is very strong," she said, lazily settling her deshabille. "Many people have been hanged on less. Apparently the police are satisfied. At least, they have not arrested either of us."

The financier started violently.

"Either of uth?" he cried, aghast. "What do you mean, either of uth?"

Her smile was enigmatical.

"As you said just now—the removal of the obstacle was to the advantage of both of us."

"But they don't know," he shivered. "They can't know."

"I hope not," she said shortly.

Perspiration began to stand out on his forehead. He had lost color considerably.

"You promised to keep my thecret," he exclaimed nervously. "Noth a word to any one."

"I shall keep my promise," she replied.

"There is no cause for alarm. I don't think Inspector Fay will trouble us."

There was a tap at the door. They turned as the butler entered.

"Inspector Fay would like to see you for a few minutes, madam."

They looked at each other. The financier was agitated. The woman was perfectly calm.

"Talk of the devil!" she smiled.

Mr. Gluckstein gripped his hat, stick, and gloves, and rose hurriedly.

"He must not see me here," he said jerkily. "Let me out another way."

"Go through there," she said, pointing to a door at the opposite end of the room, "and when he has come in, Parker will let you out. Bring the inspector in, Parker."

The financier did not wait to shake hands.

"Remember," he whispered passing her—"both your promises."

"They will be kept," she said.