"I mean that I need the money, and must have it."

"I'd pay it to you if I had it, but I haven't."

"You must get it."

"How can I? My father won't give it to me."

"Listen to me. I am in earnest. I want to ask you a question. Suppose you had won, wouldn't you have expected me to pay you?"

"Why, yes, I suppose so."

"Well, it's a poor rule that doesn't work both ways. I tell you, Phil, I need that money. I need it to pay my hotel bill."

"Was that what you depended upon to pay your bills?" asked Philip, with awakening suspicion. "I thought you had plenty of money."

This was what Congreve had represented to his dupe, but the question by no means disconcerted him.

"Of course," he said; "but a man can't always command his resources. I have sent in two different directions for money, but they have put me off, so I have to fall back on you."

"I'd like to pay the money, and get it off my mind," said Philip, uncomfortably, "but the fact of it is I can't."

"This is a debt of honor. Gentlemen always pay their debts of honor. It takes precedence of all other claims."

"I have no other claims. That is all I owe to anybody."

"Well, when can you let me have the money?"

"I am sure I don't know," returned Philip, sullenly. "I didn't expect you were going to press me so."

James Congreve saw that Philip had reached the point which he desired.

"I press you because I have to," he said. "I have already told you how you can settle the claim."

"How?" asked Philip, uneasily.

He could guess, for there had been conversation on that point before.

"You know what I mean. Get hold of some of your father's government bonds," said Congreve, insinuatingly.

"I don't want to become a thief."

"Pooh! Isn't he your father, and ain't you an only son? Won't it all be yours sometime?"

"Yes, but----"

"Oh, don't bother with buts! That makes all the difference in the world."

"I couldn't do it without being suspected," objected Philip, with whom this was the princ.i.p.al consideration.

"Yes, you can. You'll give the bonds to me, and I will dispose of them.

If you could get hold of two hundred-dollar bonds, I would give you the balance, after deducting the amount of my debt."

"But I am sure to be suspected."

"Unless you throw the suspicion upon some one else."

"How can I?"

"There's your friend, Harry Gilbert----"

"He isn't my friend."

"Well, your enemy, then. So much the better. You can say you saw him prowling round the house. If you could get him arrested, it would be a satisfaction, even if he wasn't convicted."

"That's true. I should like to get even with him."

"So you can. You can throw suspicion on him, and get off free yourself.

It will be a splendid revenge."

Philip began to think favorably of the scheme, arid before he left the hotel had agreed to it.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE TEMPTER

Philip was far from being a model boy--as we have seen, he didn't shrink from meanness--but it was not without reluctance that he a.s.sented to James Congreve's proposal. He did not feel that abhorrence of theft that a better principled boy would have done, but the thought of resorting to it gave him a sense of humiliation. Besides, the fear of detection inspired in him a certain uneasy feeling. In fact, he retraced his steps, and sought Congreve in his room again.

"What! back again?" asked James, in surprise.

"Yes," replied Philip. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to do what you proposed to me."

"Don't want to do it?" repeated Congreve, frowning. "What nonsense is this?"

"No nonsense at all," retorted Philip, not liking his friend's tone. "I don't want to be a thief."

"You won't be. It's all in the family, you know."

"What if it is? Father won't take that view of it."

"That won't matter to you."

"Why not?"

"Because he won't know you took the bonds. You're not going to tell him."

"He may find out."