Chapter Thirty Four.
The Alternative.
“Well? And have you now come round to a sweet and reasonable frame of mind?”
Wagram looked his persecutor steadily in the face. He was not secured, but two stalwart blacks stood on each side, ready to anticipate any aggressive movement on his part.
“You’ve not, eh? That’ll come; only the longer you hold out the more personal inconvenience you’ll lay yourself open to. I give you fair warning.”
“You intend to murder me, I suppose,” answered Wagram. “Why not do it at once? I won’t agree to your perfectly outrageous proposal.”
“Outrageous?” sneered the white fiend. “Let’s go over the ground again. A month ago I invited you to make a protracted stay with me. I further asked you to send for your son, thinking that a little wild bush life would make a wholesome change for a schoolboy, and we would have been as jolly as sandboys together. You began to make excuses. Now, I don’t like excuses. I’m not accustomed to them, as you must have learnt since you’ve been here. Then you refused point-blank, saying this was no place to bring a boy to. You yourself couldn’t refuse my hospitality, which I’m afraid I shall have to extend to you for an indefinite time. But your son and heir—I’m dying to make his acquaintance. See?”
“Yes; I see. And I give you the answer straight: I have no intention that you should make his acquaintance or he yours. Now—is that straight enough?”
“Oh, quite. Only have you reflected that in that case you yourself will never set eyes on him again? Hasn’t that struck you?”
“As a possibility, not as a probability. Look here! you are a white man, not a savage. For some purpose you are trying to frighten me. What is it? Is it that you want a larger price? If so, name it.”