“You’re perfectly sure he didn’t spot you?”
“Aye; I’m sure—and I’m almost sure young Hayward didna’ recognize me.”
“Otherwise you wouldna be sitting here now—eh?”
“Let that pass,” said Corrie, restraining his temper. “The point is—the letter.”
“But I don’t happen to be interested in the letter.”
“Ye’ve got to be interested in it! If I canna get back the letter, I’ll need to get back the shares.”
“I’m afraid you won’t get back the shares.”
Corrie exploded. “Would ye ruin me—send me to the jail?”
Symington ignored the outburst. “I bought the shares from you,” he said calmly, “and paid for them. I have your acknowledgment. I may say that I intend to hold them till September, when a first dividend will be declared, which, I am informed, will send them to ten pounds—”
“Ten pound! Fifty thousand for the lot!” gasped Corrie.