"Hanged if I know how my capital is!" said Mr. Prohack.
"I suppose your lawyer knows. Smathe, isn't it?... I heard so."
"How soon do you want an answer, yes or no?" Mr. Prohack asked, with a feeling that he had his back to the wall and old Paul had a gun.
"I don't want an answer now, anyhow, old boy. You must think it over. You see, once we've got the thing, I shall set the two big groups bidding against each other for it, and we shall see some fun. And I wouldn't ask them for cash payments. Only for payment in their own shares—which are worth more than money."
"Want an answer to-morrow?"
"Could you make it to-night?" Sir Paul surprisingly answered. "And assuming you say yes—I only say assuming—couldn't you run down with me to Smathe's now and find out about your capital? That wouldn't bind you in any way. I'm particularly anxious you should think it over very carefully. And, by the way, better keep these papers to refer to. But if you can't get at your capital, no use troubling further. That's the first thing to find out."
"I can't go to Smathe's now," Mr. Prohack stammered.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going out with my wife in the car."
"But, my dear old boy, it's a big thing, and it's urgent."