"The only means I can think of for the moment," pursued Mr. Greenwood, "is this:—Get me Lord Tremordyn's acceptance to a bill of fifteen hundred pounds at three months, and I will lend you a thousand upon it without an instant's delay."
"Lord Tremordyn's acceptance! Are you mad. Greenwood?"
"No—perfectly sane and serious. Of course I shall not call upon him to ask if it be his acceptance—neither shall I put the bill into circulation. It will be in my desk until it is due; and then—if you cannot pay it—"
"What then?" said the baronet, in a subdued tone, as if he breathed with difficulty.
"Why—you must get it renewed, that's all!" replied Mr. Greenwood.
"I understand you—I understand you," exclaimed Sir Rupert Harborough: "it shall be done! When can I see you again?"
"I shall not stir out for another hour."
"Then I shall return this afternoon."
And the baronet departed to forge the name of Lord Tremordyn to a bill of exchange for fifteen hundred pounds.
"I shall hold him in iron chains," said Greenwood to himself, when he was again alone. "This bill will hang constantly over his head. Should he detect my intrigue with his wife, he will not dare open his mouth; and when I am tired of that amour, and care no more for the beautiful Cecilia, I can obtain payment of the entire amount, with interest, from Lord Tremordyn himself; for his lordship will never allow his son-in-law to be ruined and lost for fifteen or sixteen hundred pounds."