"What!" cried the inspector. "Two thousand pounds for clearing the memory of a dead man! My dear lady, five hundred is nearer the mark."
"Two thousand," she repeated. "If Sophy Marlow has the millions left by her supposed father, she can well afford that."
"Humph! We'll see. I must speak to Mr. Thorold first. You have the confession?"
"I have--safely put away. It was my intention to have seen Sophy Marlow about it, but I thought I'd wait."
"To see what price you could get?" put in Blair.
"Quite so. I'm a woman of business. If I don't get my price, I burn that confession."
"You dare not! I can have you arrested, remember."
She snapped her fingers.
"Pooh!" she said. "I don't care for your threats. This is my one chance of making money, and I'm going to take it. Two thousand pounds or nothing."
"I'll think it over," said Blair. "I am to have the refusal of that confession, mind."