"Well—say one hundred thousand pounds," suggested his lordship. "I realize that my proposition is fantastic. I really admitted as much. But—"
"One hundred thousand pounds." Mr. Jephson repeated it thoughtfully. "I should have to charge your lordship a rather high rate. As high as ten per cent."
Lord Harrowby seemed to be in the throes of mental arithmetic.
"I am afraid," he said finally, "I could not afford one hundred thousand at that rate. But I could afford—seventy-five thousand. Would that be satisfactory, Mr. Jephson?"
"Jephson," cried Mr. Thacker wildly. "Are you mad? Do you realize—"
"I realize everything, Thacker," said Jephson calmly. "I have your lordship's word that the young lady is at present determined on this alliance? And that you will do all in your power to keep her to her intention?"
"You have my word," said Lord Harrowby. "If you should care to telegraph—"
"Your word is sufficient," said Jephson. "Mr. Minot, will you be kind enough to bring me a policy blank?"
"See here, Jephson," foamed Thacker. "What if this thing should get into the newspapers? We'd be the laughing-stock of the business world."
"It mustn't," said Jephson coolly.