"I will give you five hundred."
"Good-night, Peter. I wish you happy dreams."
"St-stay!" exclaimed Peter, terrified. "I will give eight hundred."
"I am in something of a hurry," said Randall. "I believe I will call on Eleanor. I don't think we can make any arrangement."
"Hold! perhaps I will do as you say."
"Ah! now you are beginning to be reasonable," said Randall, resuming his seat.
"What security can you give me for your silence?"
"I'll tell you what I will do, Peter. You remember I told you Eleanor had a son, a boy of fourteen."
"Yes."
"His mother is quite devoted to him. Indeed, he contributes to her support by selling papers, and by various little jobs. Now, as long as Eleanor lives here you are in danger."