"Terms?" echoed Flint. "What terms? Who can compel us to terms?"
My great-uncle came to a stop in front of him.
"My terms, let us say," he answered.
"Oh, aye," mumbled Flint. "But if 'tis there for the taking——"
"It will be there for the taking, as you put it, upon the terms I lay down," stated my great-uncle.
"But if ye know of yourself where it can be taken why must we bother wi' terms, Murray?" clamored Flint. "What's riches for us can be pared down to short cuts if it must be shared out right and left."
My great-uncle's laughter was wholly contemptuous.
"Observe, Robert," he appealed to me, "here was a man, who, a half-hour past, knew naught of this treasure we are discussing. It meant nothing to him. He never dreamed of obtaining it. And now that he has held out to him the possibility of looting a measure of it he waxes indignant lest that measure be too small!"
Flint refilled the beaker with rum.
The stuff seemed to heighten the uncanny blue pallor of his face, and the pupils of his eyes dwindled to pin-pricks, whether from the strong drink or excitement I can not say. But his manner was steadier than it had been.