"Take your choice, Rooke," he said shortly. "My cheque for five hundred and get out of this, or—" He paused significantly.
"Or? . . . The other alternative?" murmured Rooke. Roger laughed roughly, fingering something he held concealed in his hand.
"You'll know that later," he said grimly. "I advise you to close with the five hundred."
Rooke shook his head.
"Sorry it's impossible. I prefer to keep the picture."
"Oh, Maryon, give in to him! Do give in to him!"
The words came sobbingly from Nan's white lips, and Rooke turned to her instantly.
"Have I your permission to keep the picture, Nan?" he asked, fixing her with his queer, magnetic eyes.
An oath broke from Roger.
"You'll have the original, you see, Trenby," explained Rooke urbanely, glancing towards him.