"You don't _think_ so!" interrupted Will, contemptuously. "If
there's any doubt we know on which side it weighs. Just tell me the
facts. What was the security?"

Sherwood replied with a brief, clear, and obviously honest account
of the speculation into which he had been drawn. To the listener it
seemed astounding that any responsible man should be lured by such
gambler's chance; he could hardly find patience to point out the
manifest risks so desperately incurred. And Sherwood admitted the
full extent of his folly; he could only repeat that he had acted on
an irresistible impulse, to be explained, though not defended, by
the embarrassment in which he found himself.

"Thank Heaven, this is over!" he exclaimed at last, passing his
handkerchief over a moist forehead. "I don't know how I got through
last night. More than once, I thought it would be easier to kill
myself than to come and face you. But there was the certainty that I
could make good your loss. I may be able to do so very soon. I've
written to--"

He checked himself on the point of uttering a name; then with eyes
down, reflected for a moment.

"No; I haven't the right to tell you, though I should like to, to
give you confidence. It's the story of the ten thousand pounds, you
remember? When I lent that money, I promised never to let any one
know. Even if I can't realise your capital at once, I can pay you
good interest until the money's forthcoming. That would be the same
thing to you?"