"You mean—you mean——?" he stammered.
"My ransom," said I.
"Mine!" he cried.
"No, it is mine, the price of my freedom."
"My ransom," said I. "The price of my freedom."
He lifted the piece of paper in a hand that trembled.
"It's a lot of money," he said. "Eighty or ninety thousand marks."
"My name is good for that."