"Not a bit of it."
"Is there good pay in it?"
"The very best; and there is fifty dollars down for you right now—if you are inclined to do as I want you to do."
Nick took a roll of bills from his pocket as he spoke, and laid it on the table before the avaricious glances of the old man.
"Well, sir," said Turner slowly, "all I've got to say is this: If I can do what you want done, I'll do it. I want that money as bad as anybody could want it and not grab it right now where it is lying; but I have never had a penny in my life that I didn't get honestly, and I am afraid that I'm too old to do what you want done."
"I tell you that you are not."
"Then, in that case, I'll take the money and put it in my pocket—so. There! Now, go ahead. If the work is honest, and such as an honest man can do, I'll do it—if I ain't too old, and you say I ain't. But if the work ain't honest, I'll return your money. Now, what is it, mister?"
"I want you first to promise that you will not reveal my identity. I must be Jules Verbeau to you to the end, and you must forget that I am not he in fact."
"You kin consider that done, sir."
"Second, I want you to answer some questions for me."