"A hundred and fifty solidi apiece. Didn't you—"
Padway growled a resounding Latin oath, grabbed his hat and cloak, and started for the door.
"Where are you going, Martinus?" said Ebenezer in alarm.
"I'm going to tell that cutthroat what I think of him!" snapped Padway. "And then I'm going to—"
"Did Thomasus promise you not to reveal the secret? I cannot believe that he violated—"
Padway stopped with his hand on the door handle. Now that he thought, the Syrian had never agreed not to tell anybody about Arabic numerals. Padway had taken it for granted that he would not want to do so. But if Thomasus got pressed for ready cash, there was no legal impediment to his selling or giving the knowledge to whom he pleased.
As Padway got his anger under control, he saw that he had not really lost anything, since his original intention had been to spread Arabic numerals far and wide. What really peeved him was that Thomasus should chisel such a handsome sum out of the science without even offering Padway a cut. It was like Thomasus. He was all right, but as Nevitta had said you had to watch him.
When Padway did appear at Thomasus' house, later that day, he had Fritharik with him. Fritharik was carrying a strong box. The box was nicely heavy with gold.
"Martinus," cried Thomasus, a little appalled, "do you really want to pay off all your loans? Where did you get all this money?"
"You heard me," grinned Padway. "Here's an accounting of principal and interest. I'm tired of paying ten per cent when I can get the same for seven and a half."