Part 13 (2/2)

”Of course. It's a matter of principle; though the boys wouldn't have pressed me.”

”I'd have let them wait,” said Harding. ”But I don't play cards. I suppose you borrowed the money from somebody else, and he wants it back.

Now the proper person for you to go to is your father.”

Lance colored and hesitated again.

”I can't!” he blurted out with evident effort. ”It's not because I'm afraid. He'd certainly be furious--I'm not thinking of that. There's a reason why it would hit him particularly hard. Besides, you know, we're far from rich.”

Having learned something about Gerald Mowbray, Harding understood the lad's reticence. Indeed, he respected his loyalty to his brother.

”Very well. If you'll tell me what you owe, and where you got the money, I may suggest something.”

He had expected Lance to refuse; but, worn by pain and anxious as he was, the boy was willing to seize upon any hope of escape. He explained his affairs very fully, and Harding made a note of the amount and of a name that was not unfamiliar to him.

When Lance finished his story and dropped back among his pillows with a flushed face, there was a short silence in the room.

Harding was not, as a rule, rashly generous; but he liked the boy, and Lance was Beatrice's brother--that in itself was a strong claim on him.

Then, Mrs. Mowbray had been gracious to him; though he was a stranger and in a sense an intruder, she had taken him into her confidence, and he felt a deep respect for her. There was in his mind, however, no thought of profiting by the situation; indeed, he was frankly reluctant to part with money which could be better employed than in paying gambling debts.

”So you went to Davies, of Winnipeg--a mortgage broker?” he remarked.

”Who told you about him? These fellows don't lend to people they know nothing about.”

”A man introduced me,” Lance said awkwardly; and Harding again suspected Gerald.

”When you signed his note for the sum you wanted, how much did you really get?”

Lance smiled ruefully as he told him.

”You seem to know their tricks,” he added.

”Some of them,” Harding replied dryly. ”Now, if you'll give me your word that you won't stake a dollar on a horse or card again, I'll take up this debt; but I don't want your promise unless you mean to keep it.”

Lance's eyes were eager, though his face was red.

”I've had my lesson. It was the first time I'd really played high, and I was a bit excited; the room was hot and full of smoke, and they'd brought in a good deal of whisky.” Then he pulled himself up. ”But I can't let you do this; and I don't see----”

”Why I'm willing to help?” Harding finished for him. ”Well, one's motives aren't always very plain, even to oneself. Still--you can take it that I've a pretty strong grievance against all mortgage brokers.

They've ruined one or two friends of mine, and they're going to make trouble in this country. I'll give you a few instances.”

He meant to frighten the lad, but there was no need to overstate the truth, and his face grew stern as he related how struggling farmers had been squeezed dry, and broken in spirit and fortune by the money-lender's remorseless grasp. Lance was duly impressed, and realized how narrow an escape he had had.

”Are you willing to leave the thing entirely to me?” Harding concluded.

”You must understand that you're only changing your creditor.”

”I can trust you,” Lance said with feeling. ”I can't tell you what a relief it is to get out of that fellow's hands! But I ought to warn you that he's tricky; you may have some trouble.”

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