“You never would be so mad!” cried Henderson, in a sudden passion. “You would just throw away the money and get into all sorts of debts and troubles.”
“Many a man has begun on less,” continued Reid, contemplatively. “I know a good horse when I see one, and anyhow I mean to try—now Tom, my boy—”
“How dare you speak to me thus?” almost shouted Henderson, growing pale with rage.
“A good many folks would say how dare you to speak to me so?” replied Reid, significantly.
Henderson did not speak; he stood there quivering with passion, glaring at the man who was his master and made him feel it.
“Now, Tom, my boy,” repeated Reid, with a short and somewhat scornful laugh, “it’s no good for us two to quarrel. We both know too much, and we may as well make the best of the situation. And what I was about to propose is this: My two thousand pounds I will ha’; but what about you going into partnership with me and making the capital four thousand? We could do something with that, and then old Ormsby, the lawyer, would not be surprised any longer at yer wanting the money.”
Henderson swore a bitter oath, and cursed the man before him.
“Do your worst!” he cried. “I’d rather go to the bottomless pit as have anything more to do with you.”
“Ye’ll find yer’self there most likely, whether ye have anything to do wi’ me or not,” retorted Reid. “It’s no good swearing and cursing, my friend Tom; ye’ve got the rope round yer neck, remember, if I choose to pull it.”