'What for?'
'A thousand pounds.'
'A thousand pounds!'
He repeated my words in such a tone that again doubts passed through my mind. If he was Twickenham it was impossible that such an amount could have the attraction for him which his tone suggested. It was a drop in the ocean compared to the sums which were waiting ready to his hand. Somehow, although not a muscle of his countenance moved, I felt convinced that the figures did appeal to him; and that strongly. If such was the case, then the thing was beyond my comprehension.
'A thousand pounds is not a trifle.'
My trite observation went unanswered. He continued to puff at his cigar, as if reflecting. I, on my part, stood and watched. Presently he spoke, examining, as he did so, the ash of his cigar with every appearance of interest.
'I'm to ask no question?'
'Of what kind?'
'As, for instance, what's the lay?'
'I don't altogether follow.'