I have viewed the matter from every conceivable angle. There is no
reprisal. I am doomed. This beloved house will be sold, my family
scattered. I an old man, a penniless outcast----"
"No, no, Papa Claude!" protested Eleanor. "You _sha'n't_ be turned out.
We must borrow the money. It's only a little over a year until I'm of
age, and then I can pay it all back. Surely we can find somebody to help
us out!"
"Ah, my darling, your trust is born of inexperience. People do not lend
money without security. There is absolutely no one to whom I can appeal."
Eleanor, sitting on the arm of his chair, suddenly started up.
"I have it!" she cried. "I know who will help us! Captain Phipps! He
knows better than any one else what it means to you to have this next
year free to finish the play. He will be _glad_ to do it; I know he
will."
Mr. Martel looked slightly embarrassed. "As a matter of fact, he has been
approached on the subject," he said. "He was most sympathetic and kind,
but unfortunately his money is all invested at present."
"Fiddlesticks!" cried Eleanor in a tone so suggestive of her paternal
grandmother that Quin smiled. "What difference does it make if it _is_
invested? Let him un-invest it.
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