“A most absurd proposal,” Wingrave said coolly. “I will instruct my brokers to take twenty thousand dollars down, and wait one week for the balance. That is the best offer I can make you. Good day!”
The young man stood as though he were stunned.
“I—I can’t find it,” he faltered. “I can’t indeed.”
“Your resources are not my affair,” Wingrave said. “I shall instruct my broker to do as I have said. If the money is not forthcoming, you know the alternative.”
“You mean to ruin me, then?” Nesbitt said slowly.
“I mean to exact the payment of what is due to me,” Wingrave said curtly. “If you cannot pay, it seems to me that I am the person to be pitied—not you. Show Mr. Nesbitt out, Aynesworth.”
Nesbitt turned towards the door. He was very pale, but he walked steadily. He did not speak another word to Wingrave.
“I’m beastly sorry,” Aynesworth said to him on the stairs. “I wish I could help you!”
“Thank you,” Nesbitt answered. “No one can help me. I’m through.”
Aynesworth returned to the sitting room. Wingrave had lit a cigarette and watched him as he arranged some papers.