This suggestion frightened Gerald. "What do you advise me to do?" he asked.
"To place yourself entirely in my hands, and let _me_ bring this unfortunate matter to a satisfactory conclusion."
"I will do so, Len. Thank you a thousand, thousand times. I am eternally grateful to you."
"Nonsense. I love you, Gerald; our interests are one. Look at yourself in the glass; you are a perfect scarecrow."
"I have had no sleep since the night before last.
"Is that a fit condition in which to set about a task so delicate? It would be inviting failure. First, you must have some breakfast."
"You must. A devilled bone and a glass or two of champagne." He rang the bell, and gave the order, and ordered also a warm bath to be prepared. "Now, Gerald. The bath first, the devilled bone and a pint of champagne next, and then to bed for two or three hours. When you awake, refreshed and with a clear mind, I will tell you all about Emilia."
"And you will explain everything to her?"
"And you will tell her I love her more devotedly than ever?"
"I will; and that your only wish is to hear the wedding bells ring."
"You're a good fellow, Len. I can never repay you. You are my good angel. But what a selfish brute I am, to talk only of myself and my troubles. You cabled for money, Len, and it was sent to you. How's the exchequer?"
"Thank you for the inquiry, dear boy. It never was lower. I have been deucedly unfortunate; plunged into a land speculation which I thought was going to make my fortune, but which cleaned me out to the last sovereign. How on earth I made my way home I don't know. I was consoled by one reflection, that I was coming home to the dearest brother an unfortunate devil ever had."
Gerald took out his check-book and put his name to a check.
"Here is a blank check, Len. Fill it in for what you like."
"Never mind; there's a balance of over two thousand in the bank."
"And welcome. I've a lot of money in securities."
"I won't thank you, Gerald," said Leonard, handing the pen to his step-brother; "you know what my feelings are toward you. Write the sum in yourself."
Gerald wrote, and gave the check back. Leonard just glanced at it, and saw that it was drawn out for twelve hundred pounds, payable to bearer. He passed his hand over his tearless eyes, and turned his head. A very skilful actor indeed was Leonard Paget; he knew to a nicety the value of a light touch. The waiter entered and said the bath was ready.