"Then you wish to buy my pension?"

"Yes, for two thousand down."

"And if I live for twenty years?"

"Oh, in that case of course my speculation would be more successful. But

you have heard the doctor's opinion."

"Would you advance the money instantly?"

"You should have a thousand at once. The other thousand I should expect

you to take in furniture."

"In furniture?"

"Yes, Admiral. We shall do you a beautiful houseful at that sum. It is

the custom of my clients to take half in furniture."

The Admiral sat in dire perplexity. He had come out to get money, and to

go back without any, to be powerless to help when his boy needed every

shilling to save him from disaster, that would be very bitter to him. On

the other hand, it was so much that he surrendered, and so little that

he received. Little, and yet something. Would it not be better than

going back empty-handed? He saw the yellow backed chequebook upon the

table. The moneylender opened it and dipped his pen into the ink.

"Shall I fill it up?" said he.

"I think, Admiral," remarked Westmacott, "that we had better have a

little walk and some luncheon before we settle this matter."

"Oh, we may as well do it at once. It would be absurd to postpone it

now," Metaxa spoke with some heat, and his eyes glinted angrily from

between his narrow lids at the imperturbable Charles. The Admiral was

simple in money matters, but he had seen much of men and had learned

to read them. He saw that venomous glance, and saw too that intense

eagerness was peeping out from beneath the careless air which the agent

had assumed.

"You're quite right, Westmacott," said he. "We'll have a little walk

before we settle it."

"But I may not be here this afternoon."

"Then we must choose another day."

"But why not settle it now?"

"Because I prefer not," said the Admiral shortly.

"Very well. But remember that my offer is only for to-day. It is off

unless you take it at once."

"Let it be off, then.

"There's my fee," cried the doctor.

"How much?"

"A guinea."

The Admiral threw a pound and a shilling upon the table. "Come,

Westmacott," said he, and they walked together from the room.

"I don't like it," said Charles, when they found themselves in the

street once more; "I don't profess to be a very sharp chap, but this is

a trifle too thin. What did he want to go out and speak to the doctor

for? And how very convenient this tale of a weak heart was! I believe

they are a couple of rogues, and in league with each other."

"A shark and a pilot fish," said the Admiral.




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