“Its own merits, of course,” broke in Lord Glengariff, hastily. “Are they not sufficient?”
“I am not in a position to affirm or deny that opinion,” said Dunn, gravely. “Let me see,” added he, to himself, while he drew a pencil from his pocket, and on the back of a letter proceeded to scratch certain figures. He continued to calculate thus for some minutes, when at last he said: “If you like to try it, my Lord, with an advance of say twenty thousand pounds, there will be no great difficulty in raising the money. Once afloat, you will be in a position to enlist shareholders easily enough.” He spoke with all the cool indifference of one discussing the weather.
“I must say, Dunn,” cried Lord Glengariff, with warmth, “this is a very noble—a very generous offer. I conclude my personal security—”
“We can talk over all this at another time, my Lord,” broke in Dunn, smiling. “Lady Augusta will leave us if we go into questions of bonds and parchments. My first care will be to send you down Mr. Steadman, a very competent person, who will make the necessary surveys; his report, too, will be important in the share market.”
“So that the scheme enlists your co-operation, Dunn,—so that we have you with us,” cried the old Lord, rubbing his hands, “I have no fears as to success.”
“May we reckon upon so much?” whispered Lady Augusta, while a long, soft, meaning glance stole from her eyes.
Dunn bent his head in assent, while his face grew crimson.
“I say, Augusta,” whispered Lord Glengariff, “we have made a capital morning's work of it—eh?”
“I hope so, too,” said she. And her eyes sparkled with an expression of triumph.
“There is only one condition I would bespeak, my Lord. It is this: the money market at this precise moment is unsettled, over-speculation has already created a sort of panic, so that you will kindly give me a little time—very little will do—to arrange the advance. Three weeks ago we were actually glutted with money, and now there are signs of what is called tightness in discounts.”