“May I see the cheque?”
“Certainly.”
Develin Hunt produced the cheque, intending to keep a firm hold of it while the other scanned its contents; but, marvellous to relate, he actually and deliberately placed it in Wagram’s outstretched hand. The latter looked at it.
“Twenty-five thousand pounds!” he said. “I suppose you are greatly in need of money?”
“Greatly isn’t the word for it,” answered the adventurer quickly. “I’m stony broke—and the worst of it is, I’m too old to be able to make any more.”
“Destroy it, Wagram, destroy it!” burst from the old Squire. “He’s broken his side of the contract already.”
The adventurer was conscious of a tense and anxious moment. He was fully aware, as we have said above, that the payment could be stopped by wire; still, while he actually held the document itself, he seemed to be holding something substantial. Wagram handed it back unhesitatingly.
“No, father,” he said; “it has been given, and we can’t take back a gift; and if anyone is the loser it will be me.”
“No, it will not,” declared the adventurer with vehemence. “No, certainly not. And—pardon me, Squire, for reminding you that I have not broken my side of the compact. Your son forced the information from me—very unfortunately, but still he did. But nobody else ever will if only you could bring yourselves to believe it. Come. Remember how, for all these years, I have kept absolute silence, even to Everard—though I have been seeing him day after day—in fact, for a devilish sight more days than I wanted to. Well, then, why should I begin to wag my tongue now?”
“Only to Everard?” repeated Wagram. “Then you’ve seen him?”