Millner continued to hold out the envelope. “You do know, now. It’s worth that. It’s worth my place.”
Mr. Spence, standing motionless before him, hesitated for an appreciable space of time. His lips parted once or twice under their square-clipped stubble, and at last emitted: “How much more do you want?”
Millner broke into a laugh. “Oh, I’ve got all I want—all and more!”
“What—from the others? Are you crazy?”
“No, you are,” said Millner with a sudden recovery of composure. “But you’re safe—you’re as safe as you’ll ever be. Only I don’t care to take this for making you so.”
Mr. Spence slowly moistened his lips with his tongue, and removing his pince-nez, took a long hard look at Millner.
“I don’t understand. What other guarantee have I got?”
“That I mean what I say?” Millner glanced past the banker’s figure at his rich densely coloured background of Spanish leather and mahogany. He remembered that it was from this very threshold that he had first seen Mr. Spence’s son.
“What guarantee? You’ve got Draper!” he said.