"There's really no reason," he said carelessly. "As a matter of fact, I took over Fred's shares to-night, or the majority of them. I can let you have—let me see"—he made a rapid calculation—"I can let you have a hundred and eighty thousand shares at nineteen and nine."
"Eighteen shillings," said Bones firmly, "and not a penny more."
They wrangled about the price for five minutes, and then, in an outburst of generosity, Mr. de Vinne agreed.
"Eighteen shillings it shall be. You're a hard devil," he said. "Now, shall we settle this in the morning?"
"Settle it now," said Bones. "I've a contract note and a cheque book."
De Vinne thought a moment.
"Why, sure!" he said. "Let's have your note."
Bones took a note from his pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the table, then solemnly seated himself at Mr. de Vinne's desk and wrote out the cheque.
His good fortune was more than Mr. de Vinne could believe. He had expected Bones to be easy, but not so easy as this.
"Good-bye," said Bones. He was solemn, even funereal.