After what seemed like a long time Ember folded up one paper and produced another. If Jane had been able to watch Mr. Molloy’s face, she would have noticed that, every now and then, it was crossed by a look of hesitation. He seemed constantly about to speak and yet held his peace.
“I’d like you to check the names for Ireland too,” said Ember. “Grogan sent me the completed list two days ago. You’d better look at it.”
Molloy took the paper and ran his finger down the names, mumbling them only half audibly. His finger travelled more and more slowly. All at once he stopped, and threw the paper from him along the bench.
“What is it?” said Ember, in his cool tones.
Molloy frowned, got up, walked to the end of the room, and came back again. He appeared to have something to say, and to experience extreme difficulty in saying it. His words, when he did speak, seemed irrelevant:
“That’s a big sum they paid us for Formula ‘A,’” he said. “Did you ever handle as much money as that, Ember?”
“No,” said Jeffrey Ember, short and sharp.
“Nor I. It’s a queer thing the feeling it gives you. I tell you I came across with fear upon me, not knowing for sure whether I’d get away with it; but there was a lot besides fear in it. There was power, Ember, I tell you—power. Whilst I’d be sitting in the train, or walking down the street, or lying in my bed at an hotel, I’d be thinking to myself, I’ve got as much as would buy you up, and then there would be leavings.”
“What are you driving at, Molloy?” said Ember.
Molloy’s florid colour deepened. He narrowed his lids and looked through them at Ember.