The scoundrel wanted $20,000!
Had I been dealing with an honest man I should have let him have the money. But he had raised his terms so artfully that I felt sure that if I yielded this he would at once make some fresh demand.
I therefore shook my head, and began picking up the notes on the table.
“That would not suit me at all,” I said decidedly. “I do not wish to be left out altogether.”
M. Auguste watched me with growing uneasiness as I restored the notes one by one to my pocket-book.
“Look here!” he said abruptly, as the last note disappeared. “Tell me plainly what you expect me to do.”
“I expect you to have a communication from your friend Madame Blavatsky, or any other spirit you may prefer—Peter the Great would be most effective, I should think—every time the Baltic Fleet is ready to start, warning ‘Mr. Nicholas’ not to let it sail.”
M. Auguste appeared to turn this proposal over in his mind.
“And is that all?” he asked.
“I shall expect you to keep perfect secrecy about the arrangement. I have a friend at Potsdam, and I shall be pretty sure to hear if you try to give me away.”