Part 12 (1/2)

The woman got up and did likewise. She blew the cigarette smoke through her nostrils, and Jones, as he watched, knew that he detested her. Then she sat down again. She seemed nervous.

”Is it true what I hear, that your sister has left you and gone to live with your mother?”

”Yes,” said Jones, remembering the bird woman of yesterday morning.

”Well, you'll have some peace now, unless you let her back--but I haven't come to talk of her. It's just this, I'm in a tight place.”

”Oh!”

”A very tight place. I've got to have some money--I've got to have it to-day.”

”Oh!”

”Yes. I ought to have had it yesterday, but a deal I had on fell through. You've got to help me, Arthur.”

”How much do you want?”

”Fifteen hundred. I'll pay it back soon.”

”Fifteen hundred pounds?”

”Yes, of course.”

A great white light, cold and clear as the dawn of Truth, began to steal across the mind of Jones. Why had this woman come to him this morning so quickly after the defeat of Voles who held her letters? How had Voles obtained those letters? This question had occurred to him before, and this question seemed to his practical mind pregnant now with possibilities.

”What do you want the money for?” asked he.

”Good heavens, what a question, what does a woman want money for? I want it, that's enough--What else will you ask?”

”What was the deal you expected money from yesterday?”

”A stock exchange business.”

”What sort of business?”

She crimsoned with anger.

”I haven't come to talk of that. I came as a friend to ask you for help.

If you refuse, well, there that ends it.”

”Oh, no, it doesn't,” said he. ”I want to ask you a question.”

”Well, ask it.”

”It's just a simple question.”

”Go on.”