And Stowmaries took a paper from the pocket of his surcoat and handed it to Michael, who made no movement to take it.
"Cousin," he said, "when I accepted the bargain which you offered me, I was more deeply in my cups than I myself had any idea of. Let us admit that 'twas an ignoble bargain, shameful alike to me and to you. Now I would pray you to return that draft to your pocket; 'tis but little I have spent of that first fifty thousand pounds, the balance of what remains you shall have on my return to London, as for the rest—that which I have so foolishly spent—I pray you to grant me a few months delay and I will repay you to the full. Thus we two who made the bargain, and these two gentlemen who witnessed it, will cease to have aught but a dim recollection of the shameful doings of a mad and roisterous night."
Silence greeted this strange speech. The beginning of it had at once awakened surprise, the end left the three men there present in a state of complete puzzlement. Stowmaries frankly gazed at Michael with wide-open eyes wherein good-humoured contempt fought with utter amazement.
Then as no one spoke, Michael added quietly:
"I await your answer, Cousin."
"Tush, man, you are joking," retorted Stowmaries with a shrug of the shoulders.
"I never was more serious in my life," rejoined the other with deep earnestness, "and 'tis a serious answer that I ask of you."
"But I know not to what your lengthy speech did tend, how can I give it answer?"
"I asked you to put that draft for money yet unpaid into your pocket; I propose to repay you in full every penny of that which this folly hath already cost you, and you on the other hand can fulfil your obligations to the lady who, of a truth, is still legally your wife."
"Hold on, man, hold on!" cried Stowmaries almost in dismay, for it seemed to him that his cousin was bereft of his senses. "Odd's fish! But you talk like a madman—and a dangerous one, too, for you use words which, were I not your guest, I could not help but resent."