"A providential fiddle-stick! Remember, Mr. Tomlinson, that by your unpardonable vacillation in this matter you will only prolong the incarceration of my wife."
"And, pray, who is responsible for that deed?"
"We will not discuss this point," returned Chichester. "I did not ask you to become my Mentor. At the same time," he added, sinking his voice, "every moment is important—for my wife is going mad in reality!"
"Then, in the name of God, release her at once!" ejaculated Tomlinson.
"Never—until she signs the deed."
"Release her," continued Tomlinson; "and then bring her with you to my office, where she can make the transfer."
"Are you mad yourself? Do you suppose she would ever put pen to paper if she were once liberated in that manner? I am surprised at your ignorance—vexed at your cowardice. You have not acted like a man of business, nor as a man of the world. It was for you to accept or decline my proposal—not to deceive me by these changes and shiftings of inclination. Come, sir—once for all—pluck up your courage: remember the two hundred pounds which you say must be paid to-morrow to two men who will not be put off, and the settlement of which debt will so materially embarrass your finances."
"My mind is made up, Mr. Chichester," answered Tomlinson firmly.
"And what is your decision?"
"I shall beg to withdraw from the transaction."