"You are most original conspirators," he said. "You threaten me first, and when you see that your threats do not disturb me in the slightest degree, you produce, somewhat as an anti-climax surely, the object which you hope to gain by your futile menaces. Go away and practise: that is what I recommend you to do. Get some small handbook about conspiracy and black-mail. You are ignorant of the very rudiments of it. As you have seen I snap my fingers at your threats, indeed, I am not sure whether it would not amuse me if you put them into execution. But to make your demands upon the top of so pathetic a failure is surely what you, Armstrong, would call a 'weak curtain.'"
"Certainly that would be a very weak curtain," said Frank, looking at his boots again.
There was no need for him to look at Charles: it was as certain as if they had gone over the scene till they knew it by heart that Charles would pick up his cue. But when Charles spoke Frank looked up at Craddock again. He wanted to see how he would take it.
Charles neither shifted his position nor cleared his throat.
"How much did Ward give you for Philip Wroughton's Reynolds?" he asked.
Frank watching Craddock's face saw only the very slightest change pass over it. But for the moment his eyes looked inwards, squinting a little.
"That I suppose is your business?" he observed.
"Yes, in a moment I will tell you how it is," said Charles. "But first I may say what I am going to tell you."
Still Craddock's face did not change.
"Do you mean by that what you have just asked me?"