These were not very explicit nor very determinate expressions, but they were amply intelligible to him who heard them.
“To wind up, sir, in short,” said Hankes, significantly.
“Yes, Hankes, 'to wind up.'”
“A difficult matter,—a very difficult matter, sir.”
“Difficulties have never deterred me from anything, Mr. Hankes. The only real difficulty I acknowledge in life is to choose which of them I will adopt; that done, the rest is matter of mere detail.” Mr. Dunn now seated himself at a table, and in the calm and quiet tone with which he treated every business question, he explained to Hankes his views on each of the great interests he was concerned in. Shares in home speculations were to be first exchanged for foreign scrip, and these afterwards sold. Of the vast securities of private individuals pledged for loans, or given as guarantees, only such were to be redeemed as belonged to persons over whom Dunn had no control. Depositary as he was of family secrets, charged with the mysterious knowledge of facts whose publication would bring ruin and disgrace on many, this knowledge was to have its price and its reward; and as he ran his finger down the list of names so compromised, Hankes could mark the savage exultation of his look while he muttered unintelligibly to himself.
Dunn stopped at the name of the Viscount Lackington, and, leaning his head on his hand, said, “Don't let us forget that message to Malta.”
“A heavy charge that, sir,” said Hankes. “The Ossory has got all his Lordship's titles; and we have set them down, too, for twenty-one thousand seven hundred above their value.”
“Do you know who is the Viscount Lackington?” asked Dunn, with a strange significance.
“No, sir.”
“Neither do I,” said Dunn, hurriedly following him. “Mayhap it may cost some thousands of pounds and some tiresome talk to decide that question; at all events, it will cost you or me nothing.”