"Speaking for myself and partner, I think we'll take five pounds a night."
"Yes, I'll agree to that," observed Ezra eagerly
"I've no doubt you will," rejoined Mortimer, raising his eyebrows; "that's thirty pounds a week, fifteen pounds apiece--a very nice sum, gentlemen--if you get it."
"Then what do you propose to give?" asked Keith.
"One pound for every performance."
Stewart laughed.
"Do you take us for born fools?" he asked angrily.
"No, I do not," replied Mortimer, catching his chin between finger and thumb, and looking critically at the two young men; "I take you for very clever boys who are just making a start, and I'm willing to help you--at my own price--which is one pound a night."
"The game's not worth the candle," said Ezra, in a disappointed tone.
"Oh, yes, it is," retorted Mortimer; "it gives you a chance. Now, look here, I've no desire to take advantage of my position, which, as you see, is a very strong one."