"Blackmail!" gasped Quinney.
"I prefer to call it a weapon, sir, which you are forcing me, sorely against my will, to use."
"This puts the lid on."
"Yes, it does."
"I understand. It's my daughter against your silence, hey? Hold hard! Does she know of this?"
"No. Don't you remember? She asked for information, which I withheld out of respect for you and her. Posy believes you to be scrupulously honest."
"I'm damned!"
"I fear that you will be, if this story becomes public."
"My Posy against your silence. My Posy against my reputation. My Posy against my wife!"
He was profoundly moved. James perceived this, and proceeded to follow up his advantage. His tactics, admittedly, were intelligently conceived and carried out. His error—a fundamental one—lay in his ignorance of Quinney's character. Like Susan, who had been carried away by her maternal emotions; like Posy, who was still in her salad days, he had taken for granted that Quinney did prefer things to persons.