"Why should they find out?" asked Babbacombe.
West shrugged his shoulders. "It's a dead certainty that they will."
"If I can take the risk, so can you," said Babbacombe.
"Oh, of course, I used to be rather good at that game. It is called 'sand-throwing' in the profession."
Babbacombe made an impatient movement, and West's hard smile became more pronounced.
"But you are not at all good at it," he continued. "You are almost obtrusively obvious. It is a charm that has its very material drawbacks."
Babbacombe wholly lost patience at that. The man's grim irony was not to be borne.
"Take it or leave it!" he exclaimed. "But if you leave it, in heaven's name let it be for some sounder reason than a faked-up excuse of moral weakness!"
West uttered an abrupt laugh. "You seem to have a somewhat exalted opinion of my morals," he observed. "Well, since you are determined to brave the risk of being let down, I needn't quibble at it any further. I accept."
Babbacombe's attitude changed in an instant. He held out his hand.