Frobisher wrote the words "five hundred pounds" under the name of Paul Lopez on the cheque and appended his queer, cramped signature. As he lay back with a smile, Lopez coolly reached over, tore the cheque from the counterfoil and placed it in his pocket.
"Good," he said. "The money is already mine. I've had a few of your cheques in my time, and I have earned every one of them. I have earned this already."
Frobisher displayed no surprise or emotion of any kind. Lopez was worth his money, and he never boasted. The information needed would be cheap at the price. He waited for Lopez to speak.
"The Shan of Koordstan is generally hard up," the latter said. "He is a precious rascal, too. I have already dogged and watched him because he might be a profitable investment some day."
"Precisely," Frobisher chuckled, "precisely as you have studied me. Well, you are quite welcome to all the milk you can extract from this cocoanut. You are interesting me, beloved spy."
"Koordstan has been unlucky lately in his many dealings. The tribes are fighting shy of him. And in the depths of his despair he found a friend and philanthropist in Aaron Benstein. In other words, he must have given Benstein really good security for his money. Mind, I am speaking from personal knowledge."
"You are earning your money," Frobisher croaked. "Do you know what the security is?"
"I know that it isn't the concession you are after, because there is another game on over that. And Benstein is not likely to say anything, nor is the Shan, for that matter. But one thing is wrapped up in another, and there you are. Shall I show you how I have earned all that cheque?"
"Rascal, you are puzzling me. If Benstein had any kind of weakness——"
"He has. He is the hardest man in London, the most clever and greedy financier I know, and yet he has his weak point. He is old and his mind is not what it was. And he has a young wife, a kind of beautiful slave that he has purchased of recent years. The fellow is infatuated with her to the verge of insanity. She has no heart and no brains, but cunning and infinite beauty, to say nothing of an audacity that is thoroughly Cockney in its way. I dare say you have seen her?"