"And I want that four hundred pounds before I produce the box—"
"Well, the money's ready."
"—and another five hundred when you touch the box—"
"You impudent swine!" cried Bullard viciously. "So that's your game!"
"Well, Mr. Bullard, when I came to think it over in that ghastly blizzard, I saw you had inadvertently underestimated the value of my services, and considering that I had already parted with those valuable papers of mine for one—"
"Oh, shut it, man! Do you take me for a fool?"
"On the contrary, Mr. Bullard! You want that box badly, and an extra five hundred is neither here nor there to you."
Bullard's expression was so ugly then that the pretender wavered. "Where is the Green Box? Answer!"
"Give me the four hundred, and I'll take you to it."
"Take me to it? I think not!"