His frown grew more black. "You appear to be a confoundedly clever fellow!" he exclaimed in irritated tones.
"I entertain such a lively respect for my opponent that I have tried to show you my best!" I replied, laying a gloved hand on my heart.
"I did not come here to exchange compliments with you," he retorted coldly. "Kindly get to business."
"Have you the money?" I demanded.
"Yes. But I shall not give you a solitary farthing until I am furnished with a substantial guarantee that this will be your last impertinence. My—er—friends and I do not propose to let you hold our souls in pawn."
"What guarantee do you require?"
He took a paper from his packet and tossed it carelessly upon the table. "Read!" said he.
The paper contained a confession that I—a blank was left for my name—on a certain night, stole from Sir Charles Venner, by means of impersonation and fraud, the sum of three hundred pounds.
"I suppose you wish me to sign this?" I asked.
"Certainly, and to disclose your identity besides!"