"Of course he has, my dear boy," Nevitt answered, smiling. "He'd
use the money at once, without a second's hesitation."
"But I haven't got the money to use," Guy continued, after a short
pause.
"Cyril has, though," Nevitt responded, with a significant nod.
Guy perused his boots, and made no immediate answer. Nevitt wanted
none just then; he waited some seconds, humming all the while an
appropriate tune. Then he caught Guy's eye again, and fixed him a
second time.
"It's a pity we don't know Cyril's address in Belgium," he said,
in a musing tone. "We might telegraph across for leave to use his
money meanwhile. Remember, I'm just as deeply compromised as you,
or even more so. It's a pity we should both be ruined, with six
thousand pounds standing at this very moment to Cyril's account at
the London and West Country. But it can't be helped. There's no
time to lose. The money must be paid in sharp by this evening."
"By this evening!" Guy exclaimed, starting up excitedly.
Nevitt nodded assent. "Yes, by this evening, of course," he answered
unperturbed, "or we become ipso facto defaulters and bankrupts."
That was a lie to be sure; but it served his purpose. Guy was a
child at business, and believed whatever nonsense Nevitt chose to
foist upon him.
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