find it easier to abuse people who work than to
work yourself. Now if you go down to Liverpool, and ask how I got to my
present position, you'll find it's the result of hard and honest work.
Understand that: honest work."

"And forgetting to pay your debts," threw in the young man.

"It's eight years since I owed any man a penny. The people I _did_ owe
money to were sensible men of business--all except your father, and he
never could see things in the right light. I went through the
bankruptcy court, and I made arrangements that satisfied my creditors.
I should have satisfied your father too, only he died."

"You paid tuppence ha'penny in the pound."

"No, it was five shillings, and my creditors--sensible men of
business--were satisfied. Now look here. I owed your father four
hundred and thirty-six pounds, but he didn't rank as an ordinary
creditor, and if I had paid him after my bankruptcy it would have been
just because I felt a respect for him--not because he had any legal
claim. I _meant_ to pay him--understand that."

Hilliard smiled. Just then a block signal caused the train to slacken
speed. Darkness had fallen, and lights glimmered from some cottages by
the line.

"You don't believe me," added Dengate.

"I don't."

The prosperous man bit his lower lip, and sat gazing at the lamp in the
carriage. The train came to a standstill; there was no sound but the
throbbing of the engine.

"Well, listen to me," Dengate resumed. "You're turning out badly, and
any money you get you're pretty sure to make a bad use of. But"--he
assumed an air of great solemnity--"all the same--now listen----"

"I'm listening."

"Just to show you the kind of a man I am, and to make you feel ashamed
of yourself, I'm going to pay you the money."

For a few seconds there was unbroken stillness. The men gazed at each
other, Dengate superbly triumphant, Hilliard incredulous but betraying
excitement.

"I'm going to pay you four hundred and thirty-six pounds," Dengate
repeated. "No less and no more. It isn't a legal debt, so I shall pay
no interest. But go with me when we get to Birmingham, and you shall
have my cheque for four hundred and thirty-six pounds."

The train began to move on. Hilliard had uncrossed his legs, and sat
bending forward, his eyes on vacancy.

"Does that alter your opinion of me?" asked the other.

"I sha'n't believe it till I have cashed the cheque."

"You're one of those young fellows who think so much o