“A self-confessed thief and crook as well as a liar! And you expect me to believe in your good intentions towards Arnold Price!”
An unpleasant look passed across the other’s face, but he spoke calmly.
“That may be all very well and very true if you like, but it doesn’t advance the situation. The question now is: Are you prepared to hand over the letter? Nothing else seems to me to matter.”
“Why did you not come to me like an ordinary honest man and tell me your story? What induced you to launch out into all this complicated network of crime?”
Price smiled whimsically.
“Well, you might surely guess that,” he answered. “Suppose you had refused to give me the letter, how was I to know that you would not have put it beyond my reach? I couldn’t take the risk.”
“Suppose I refuse to give it to you now?”
“You won’t, Mr. Cheyne. No one in your position could. Circumstances are too strong for you, and you can hand it over and retain your honor absolutely untarnished. I do not wish to urge you to a decision. If you would prefer to take today to think it over, by all means do so. I sent the wire to Mrs. Cheyne shortly before six last night, so she will not be uneasy about you.”
Though the words were politely spoken, the threat behind them was unmistakable and fell with sinister intent on the listener’s ears. Rapidly Cheyne considered the situation. This ruffian was right. No one in such a situation could resist indefinitely. It was true he could refuse his consent at the moment, but the question would come up again and again until at last he would have to give way. He knew it, and he felt that unless there was a strong chance of victory, he could not stand the hours of suffering which a further refusal would entail. No, bitter as the conclusion was, he felt he must for the moment admit defeat, trusting later to getting his own back. He turned back to Price.
“I haven’t got the letter here. I can only get it for you if you put me ashore.”