Terrard grasped at the only way out.
“If you really mean it, Mr. Petre,” he said, solemnly and slowly, separating every word, “there is one rapid way, and only one.” Mr. Petre made no sign: he only waited. “Trefusis might take over—but at a sacrifice—Mr. Petre—a very heavy sacrifice, I’m afraid.”
“He would, would he?” caught up Mr. Petre with a gleam of eagerness. “Would he pay over—now, any time, at once?”
“Well,” said the other, “it’s not a matter of a moment, a great operation like that ... it would want financing, he’d have to work it delicately.”
It was odd to find himself telling such a man such things—as though to a child. But he dared not question. He humored and followed the lead given him.
Mr. Petre menaced disaster, and Terrard rapidly added, “But if he’ll meet you—and at a price, Mr. Petre, he would, I suppose—you could have a line that would bind him: and you could have it soon; if he’ll meet you,” and he looked at the strange Thing before him, wondering.
“Any price,” said Mr. Petre, groaning, “any price. That doesn’t touch me.”
“He’d try to get all the difference of the rise, I’m afraid,” said Charlie.
“What’s the difference of the rise?”
“Why, the rise since ... since the deal. He’d want the twenty per cent. premium back, Mr. Petre.”