He handed the sharper his card. The fellow looked at it, and read off the name. “Henry, Lord ——.”
Then, as he put the card into his pocket, he said—
“Good, my Lord. Your social position is a guarantee for the payment of this debt of honour. But perhaps your Lordship will kindly scribble me an I.O.U.”
His Lordship complied with the request. He tore a leaf from his notebook, asked the man for his name, and received for answer. “Richard Waring Eastman.” Then he wrote on the slip of paper:—
RICHARD WARING EASTMAN,
I.O.U.
Nine Hundred and Ninety-two Pounds (£992).
HENRY, LORD ——
Bruton Street, Mayfair, London.
Richard Waring Eastman took the document, scrutinized it to see that it was in order, and as he carefully placed it in his pocket-book, a look of keen satisfaction sat on his fac
