Mr. O'Hagan went pale. This was an unexpected blow. But he said nothing.
"The Prefect is, as you are aware, not so complaisant as the brigand Mollendo," Pardo continued. "He will not release the boy for a paltry £250. He will not accept any sum as ransom for so mischievous a rebel."
He paused, as a cat releases a mouse for a moment, for the pleasure, it would seem, of prolonging its victim's agony.
"What have you come here for?" cried Mr. O'Hagan impetuously. "Merely to harass me, you----"
He checked himself. It was no good abusing the man.
"I come to make a proposal," said Pardo. "Your son is at present my prisoner; it rests with you whether I hand him over to the Prefect, and then!..." He expressed his meaning by a gesture. "Or whether he is released, and allowed to rejoin you. My terms are quite simple, but absolutely unconditional. They are not open to discussion. You will make a formal assignment of your estate to me; you will then leave the country. Your son's life depends on your prompt acceptance."
Mr. O'Hagan sprang up.
"What is to prevent me from shooting you, you villain?" he cried, overmastered by his rage.
Pardo shrank from him. He felt a chill run down his spine like a trickle of cold water. But he recovered himself in a moment.
"The honour of an Englishman will prevent you," he said with an air of assurance. "Besides, if I die, your son dies. Nobody but myself and one other knows where he is. He will starve!"