“Three hundred thousand francs; but then there is the cast of the false stones to add to that and the interest.”
She spoke the truth in this, for she knew that it would be no use to do otherwise.
“And what did you sign for?”
“I can’t remember.”
William Massarene laughed, a short, rasping, grim sound, like the chuckle of the big woodpecker.
“Beaumont has a very good reputation,” she added. “He never cheats. He was once a gentleman, they say.”
“And gentlefolks never cheat, do they, my lady!”
“Oh, Billy, don’t mock at me,” she cried with genuine distress. “I am in horrible trouble. I have told you everything because you are my friend. Will you do this thing or won’t you?”
“How will you pay me if I do?”
“Pay you!”