He continued: "He's lost it all since."

"Pity he didn't pay me back my hundred pounds while he'd got it! How did
he lose his money?"

"In the same way as most rich men lose their money," answered Mr.
Bishop. "He died."

Although Mr. Prohack would have been capable of telling a similar story
in a manner very similar to Mr. Bishop's, he didn't quite relish his
guest's theatricality. It increased his suspicion of his guest, and
checked the growth of friendliness which the lunch had favoured. Still,
he perceived that there was a good chance of getting his hundred pounds
back, possibly with interest--and the interest would mount up to fifty
or sixty pounds. And a hundred and fifty pounds appeared to him to be an
enormous sum. Then it occurred to him that probably Mr. Bishop was not
indeed "after" anything and that he had been unjust to Mr. Bishop.

"Married?" he questioned, casually.

"Angmering? No. He never married. You know as well as anybody, I expect,
what sort of a card he was. No relations, either."

"Then who's come into his money?"

"Well," said Mr. Bishop, with elaborate ease and smoothness of quiet
delivery. "I've come into some of it. And there was a woman--actress
sort of young thing--about whom perhaps the less said the better--she's
come into some of it. And you've come into some of it. We share it in
equal thirds."