M. Brigot was interested. He was so interested that, for the moment, he could forget his animosity and private grievances. It was true that, as Cartwright had said, his creditors were becoming noisy.
“In cash, of course?” he said suddenly.
Cartwright shook his head.
“You can have a portion in cash and the rest in shares.”
“Bah!” Brigot snapped his fingers. “I also can issue shares, my friend. What are shares? Pieces of paper which are not worth their ink. No, no, you deceive me. I thought you had come to me with a genuine offer. There is no business to be done between you and me, Mr. Cartwright. Good evening.”
Cartwright did not move.
“A portion in cash—say, fifteen thousand pounds,” he suggested; “that is a lot of money.”
“To you—yes, but not to me,” said the magnificent Brigot. “Give me two-thirds in cash and I will take the rest in shares. That is my last word.”
Cartwright rose.
“This offer is open until—when?”