"Very useful," I replied. "Are you in a position to do so?"
"I might possibly be able to afford you some slight assistance," he went on. "That is, of course, provided it were made worth my while."
"What do you call 'worth your while'?"
"Well, shall we say five hundred pounds? That's not a large sum for really trustworthy information. I ought to ask a thousand, considering the danger I'm running in mixing myself up with the affair. Only I'm a father myself, and that's why I do it."
"I see. Well, let me tell you, I consider five hundred too much."
"Well then I'm afraid we can't trade. I'm sorry."
"So am I. But I'm not going to buy a pig in a poke."
"Shall we say four hundred, then?"
"No. Nor three—two, or one. If your information is worth anything, I don't mind giving you fifty pounds for it. But I won't give a halfpenny more."
As I spoke, I rose as if to terminate the interview. Instantly my visitor adopted a different tone.