"It seems only the other day since you were here last."
"Six months."
"How many six months do you make in a year?
"Two."
"Hm--I am not so sure of that. Seems to me you have managed to pack three into this last year. However--Here, Stinson!" he called to the clerk appointed to wait without and attend his private behests, while he scribbled a cheque. "Ask the cashier to cash that. Quick!" he added as he raised his eyes and saw the stolid figure of his visitor standing before him, a statue in copper-coloured flesh, motionless and unregarding, unimpressed by his grandeur or the trembling assiduousness of his clerk; an embodiment of still impassible waiting, like the image carved on the granite door-post of an Egyptian temple. Paul did not even glance about him, he simply stood, and with unwinking eye gazed into space, inscrutible and indifferent to all around.
Ralph threw himself back in his chair, fidgetted impatiently, and coughed and snorted. So impressive is that which cannot be gauged or looked into, even if it contain nothing. This was the instrument, too, and the reminder of a crime, who stood before him; a crime of so long ago, and which yet, so long as the Indian lives may come to light--may even be remedied, and leave him unprofited by the deed, as well as disgraced by its discovery. With wonder he asked himself how he could have ventured to do what he had done, the chances of failure being so many, the consequences of detection so ruinous, that to think of them even now sent a cold thrill through him. Since it was done, however--and he felt no remorse at the deed--he was content enough to enjoy the fruits, although his successes since had made him in a measure independent of them; still his uncle's millions when they came--came to his boy that is, but he ere then would be his partner--would, added to his own, gain him a position above rivalry; and even now in expectancy they enhanced his importance.
Stinson returned with the proceeds of the cheque, and Ralph counted over two hundred dollars to hand to Paul. His fingers lingered lovingly over the bits of paper, touching each dollar with a dainty caress as though he loved it and was sad to part.
It is strange how a rich man hates to part with money, while the poor are free and even lavish so far as their little "pile" will go; but perhaps we only invert the statement of what is a truism, that they who dislike to part with their money keep it and grow rich, while they who spend it lavishly grow poor. At any rate, Ralph lingered while he counted the two hundred dollars, and the thought occurred to him "how many times more would this have to be done?" Eight years still before Gerald's money became payable! Sixteen more half-yearly payments of two hundred dollars each! Thirty-two hundred dollars in all, besides interest! It seemed monstrous. Could nothing be done? Could he not be made to take a round sum down, and be bound to keep silence for ever? No! That had been tried already, and so soon as the money was spent he came back for more, saying he must live, and if Ralph would not pay, assuredly the bereaved parents would. And so it had come about that Paul was grown an annuitant, and came to claim his little income every six months.
"Here you are, Paul," growled Ralph, handing over the money with a sigh; and Paul with a gleam in his eye laid hands upon the roll of bills which vanished from view forthwith.
"Say, Paul," speaking in a more insinuating voice, "would it not suit you better to get a good big lump of money once for all, than to be coming here so often drawing it by dribs and drabs? If I were to give you a thousand dollars now, all at once, see how many things you could do with it! You could open a tavern up the Ottawa and make your fortune right away, and you would save all the money you spend for drink besides."