"It is only telling you that you're human."
I refused to argue the matter.
"Well?" I said. "What's the object of all this palaver?"
"That's what I'm coming to. We can take it for granted that even if you're not anxious for me to . . . pack up, you won't be very sorry when I have gone."
Again I started to protest, but he stopped me.
"Mind, I'm not such a fool as to blame you, for I do realize these things. So I intend altering them. I'm going to turn your inclination the other way. Not only will you want me to live, but it's going to be made positively worth your while."
This sounded very exciting—but I thought it just as well not to say so. I held my peace.
"My plan is quite simple," he resumed. "I intend going on with this experiment and having some new glands grafted, but I must have your help—your interest—your enthusiasm behind me. It is necessary at my age to depend on someone's youthful and active support. So the day when the operation is declared successful you will receive five thousand dollars in cash."
I gasped, but he went on with reckless extravagance:
"I'm a much wealthier man than you have ever imagined, George—and we'll both begin to take advantage of the fact at once. Twenty years ago, when I went to end my days in peace under your grandfather's hospitable roof, I was worth close on two hundred thousand dollars. That's a good deal . . . but, wait!"