‘Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That money you say you lent seventeen years ago. What are your securities?’
‘The best. The word of an honourable man.’
‘The word!’ Mr. Coyshe whistled. ‘Words! What are words?’
‘He offered me a mortgage, but it never came,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘Indeed, I never applied for it. I had his word.’
‘If you see the shine of that money again, you are lucky.’ Then looking at Jasper: ‘My patient is upset again—I thought the air was too strong for him. He must be carried in. He is going into a fit.’
Jasper was leaning back against the wall, with distended eyes, and hands and teeth clenched as with a spasm.
‘No,’ said Jasper faintly, ‘I am not in a fit.’