“Not lost exactly, but left behind, which is almost as bad; just as inconvenient, anyway. I’ve come away without my sovereign purse, with four quid in it, all my worldly wealth for the moment. It was in my pocket all right, just before I was starting, and then I wanted to seal a letter, and the sovereign-purse happens to have my crest on it, so I whipped it out to stamp the seal with, and, like a double-distilled idiot, I must have left it on the table. I had some silver loose in my pocket, but after I’d paid for a taxi and my ticket I’d only got this forlorn little sixpence left. I’m stopping at a little country inn near Brondquay for three days’ fishing; not a soul knows me there, and my weekend bill, and tips, and cab to and from the station, and my ticket on to Brill, that will mount up to two or three quid, won’t it? If you wouldn’t mind lending me two pound ten, or three for preference, I shall be awfully obliged. It will pull me out of no end of a hole.”

“I think I can manage that,” said Sletherby, after a moment’s hesitation.