"Do you remember my word?" said I meaningly, for his coolness irritated me beyond measure. His very face and hands he had contrived to cleanse at some of the taps. He might have been in bed all night and neglected nothing but his chin and his hair. And this was the man of whom a whole colony would talk this morning, for whom a whole colony would hunt all day.
"Your word?" said Deedes. "You promised to help me."
"I didn't. I said I'd see you again. If I help you it will be on very definite terms."
"Half-profits, eh? Well, I'm agreeable, and glad you haven't forgotten our conversation of last night."
"And I'm glad," I retorted, "to see you make no more bones about your guilt. Where's the money? I want the lot."
"You're greedy, Beetle!"
"Confound you!" I cried, "do you think I want to compromise myself by being found here with you? For two pins I'll leave you to get out of this as best you can. You heard me? I want that twenty thousand pounds. I want it to pay back into the bank. Then I'll do what I can, but not until."
I saw his dark eyes blazing as they had blazed in the candle-light. He was between me and the door, and I knew that for any gain to him I never should have left that room alive. At least I believed so then; I believe it still; but at that moment his manner changed. He gave in to me, and yet maintained a coolness and a courage in his peril, a dignity in his defeat, which more than fascinated me. They made me his slave. I could have screened him all day for the pure æsthetic joy of contemplating those fearless, dare-devil eyes and hearing that cynical voice of unaffected ease. But the money I insisted on having.
"That's all very well," said he; "but I haven't got it here. I planted it."
"Tell me where."