“On demand?” asked Ieremia.
“On demand,” Cornelius assured him.
“Then I demand coin money now,” said Ieremia, drawing a small package of notes from the pouch at his girdle.
Cornelius scanned the package with a quick, estimating eye.
“Very well,” he agreed. “I shall give you the coin money now. How much?”
“And we will see the system work,” the king proclaimed, partaking in his Chancellor's triumph.
“You have heard!—He will give coin money now!” Ieremia cried in a loud voice to the assemblage.
At the same time he plunged both hands in the basket and drew forth many packages of Fitu-Ivan notes. It was noticed that a peculiar odour was adrift about the council.
“I have here,” Ieremia announced, “one thousand and twenty-eight pounds twelve shillings and sixpence. Here is a sack to put the coin money in.”
Cornelius recoiled. He had not expected such a sum, and everywhere about the council his uneasy eyes showed him chiefs and talking men drawing out bundles of notes. The army, its two months' pay in its hands, pressed forward to the edge of the council, while behind it the populace, with more money, invaded the compound.