"Then you have some chance of it."
"Not much; he is a stout, healthy boy."
"Look here, Craven, you must make up your mind to do something for me. Give me a thousand dollars down."
"I couldn't without my wife finding out. Besides you would be coming back for more."
"Well, perhaps I might," said the other, coolly.
"You would ruin me," exclaimed Craven, sullenly. "Do you think I am made of money?"
"I know this—that it will be better for you to share your prosperity with me, and so insure not being disturbed. Half a loaf is better than no bread."
Mr. Craven fixed his eyes upon the table, seriously disturbed.
"How much is the boy worth?" asked Sharpley, after a pause.
"Forty thousand dollars."