"It isn't likely," he commented, "you wouldn't have had it to lose."
Hungerford's momentarily vague look suddenly became knowing.
"You mean I would have lost it long ago?" he asked. "Oh, I say, old man, you're a bit hard on me. I may not have much head for business, but I'm not altogether a fool, don't you know."
"Glad to know it," laughed Macloud, as he arose and sauntered away.
Hungerford drew out his cigarettes and thoughtfully lighted one.
"I wonder--did he mean I am or I am not?" he said. "I wonder. I shall have to ask him some time.--Boy! a Scotch and soda."
Meanwhile, Macloud passed into the Club-house and, mounting the stairs to the second floor, knocked sharply at a door in the north-west corner of the corridor.
"Come in," called a voice.--"Who is it?--Oh! it's you, Macloud. Make yourself at home--I'll be out in a moment."
There was the noise of splashing water, accompanied by sundry exclamations and snorts, followed by a period of silence; and, then, from the bath room, emerged Croyden clad in robe, slippers and a smile.
"Help yourself," he said, pointing to the smoking materials. He filled a pipe, lit it carefully, blew a few whiffs to the ceiling and watched them slowly dissipate.
"Well, it's come," he remarked: "Royster & Axtell have smashed clean."
"Not clean," said Macloud. "It is going to be the most criminal failure this town has ever known."
"I mean they have busted wide open--and I'm one of the suckers."
"You are going to have plenty of company, among your friends," Macloud answered.
"I suppose so--but I hope none of them is hit quite so bad." He blew another cloud of smoke and watched it fade. "The truth is, Colin, I'm done for."
"What!" exclaimed Macloud. "You don't mean you are cleaned out?"
The other nodded. "That's about it.... I've a few thousand left--enough to pay laundry bills, and to board on Hash Alley for a few months a year. Oh! I was a sucker, all right!--I was so easy it makes me ashamed to have saved _anything_ from the wreck. I've a notion to go and offer it to them, now."
There were both bitterness and relief in his tones; bitterness over the loss, relief that the worst, at last, had happened.
For a while, there was silence. Croyden turned away and began to dress; Macloud sat looking out on the lawn in front, where a foursome were playing the home hole, and another waiting until they got off the green.