“What!”
“Would you consent to disappear, leave France, and return to London, if I paid you a good round sum?”
“What do you call a good round sum?”
“I will give you a hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
“My respected uncle,” said Raoul with a contemptuous shrug, “I am distressed to see how little you know me! You try to deceive me, to outwit me, which is ungenerous and foolish on your part; ungenerous, because it fails to carry out our agreement; foolish, because as you know well enough, my power equals yours.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I am sorry for it. I understand myself, and that is sufficient. Oh! I understand you, my dear uncle. I have watched you with careful eyes, which are not to be deceived; I see through you clearly. If you offer me one hundred and fifty thousand francs, it is because you intend to walk off with half a million for yourself.”
“You are talking like a fool,” said Clameran with virtuous indignation.
“Not at all; I only judge the future by the past. Of all the large sums extorted from Mme. Fauvel, often against my wishes, I never received a tenth part.”
“But you know we have a reserve fund.”