"I'll take as long as I choose," returned Hugh, with a flash of temper—he, like the rest of us, was becoming restive under the realization that they did hold the whip-hand. "And understand me, I mean what I say when I tell you that any compromise between us will be based on what we consider satisfactory guarantees."
Hilyer yawned lazily.
"Don't like it, do you? Doesn't feel comfortable to be spurred. Well, suit yourselves. So far as we are concerned, remember, we'd rather come to terms with you. We stand to get more out of you than from the Turkish Government. But if you try to trick us we won't be beyond denouncing you, even at the cost of losing any share at all."
His teeth clicked and his drawl became a measured threat.
"Incidentally, this is not the only ace we have up our sleeve. Our terms will be stiffer to-morrow than they are to-day, and progressively so from then on."
"That goes," added Hélène de Cespedes, rearing her lithe body erect, all pretense of languor gone. "That's legal tender, Lord Chesby. You people are backing a losing game. The cards are stacked against you. You lose, no matter what you do."
"We'll see about that," said Hugh, rising, a spot of red on each cheek bone the one sign of the white-hot anger that seethed within him.
"Must you go?" asked Hilyer, his drawl resumed. "Au 'voir, then. Hilmi, will you see 'em out?"