“Lord Merries is, to put it briefly, financially unsound,” Sir Richard declared.
“What is the amount of your debt to Mr. Masters, Jim?”
“Eleven thousand two hundred pounds,” Lord Merries answered.
“And we may take it, I presume, for granted that you have not that sum, nor anything like it, at your disposal?” Sir Richard asked.
“Not a fiver!” Lord Merries declared with emphasis.
“We come now, Mr. Masters, to our friend Colonel Dickinson,” Sir Richard continued. “Colonel Dickinson is, perhaps, in a more favourable situation than any of us. He has a small but regular income, and he has expectations which it is not possible to mortgage fully. At the same time, it will be many years before they can—er—fructify. He is, therefore, with us in this somewhat unpleasant predicament in which we find ourselves.”
“Cut it short,” Masters growled. “I’m sick of so much talk. What’s it all mean?”
“It means simply this, Mr. Masters,” Sir Richard said, “we want you to take six months’ bills for our indebtedness to you.”
Masters rose to his feet. His thick lips were drawn a little apart. He had the appearance of a savage and discontented animal.
“So that’s why I’ve been asked here and fed up with wine and stuff, eh?” he exclaimed thickly. “Well, my answer to you is soon given. NO! I’ll take bills from no man! My terms are cash on settling day—cash to pay or cash to receive. I’ll have no other!”