It was with some interest that Gaunt examined the clergyman’s face, and he was not disappointed. Clean-cut features, noble in outline, steady eyes that regarded one frankly. The lips firm, but rather full; and the expression of the mouth was winning.
“What do you want? Money?” Gaunt demanded bluntly.
“You have guessed it, Mr. Gaunt. I see you have the Times there. If you have read my article, there is no need to say a word. I know you are a busy man,” Mr. Drake said with a smile.
While he spoke the two men were regarding one another with overt curiosity and suddenly they both smiled. Gaunt’s hand had gone to a drawer and he drew forth a check-book.
“Will that do?” he asked, as he handed over the pink slip of paper.
“You are more than generous. I am very grateful.”
“Show your gratitude by keeping your mouth shut. I am not buying a baronetcy.”
Mr. Drake had risen. There was a flush on his face, and he seemed to have some difficulty in speaking. Just then a bell tinkled on the writing-table, and Gaunt took up the receiver.
“Yes. Put me through.”
He listened for a while, and his face became very white.