Séverac Bablon stood up, keeping his magnetic gaze upon the Baron—seeming to pierce to his brain.
"For the last time—sit down, Baron!"
The words were spoken quietly enough, and yet they seemed to clamour upon the hearer's brain—to strike upon his consciousness as though it were a gong. Again Hague paused, pulled up short by the force of those strange eyes. He weighed his chances.
From all that he had heard and read of Séverac Bablon, his accomplices were innumerable. Where this cell might be situate he could form no idea, nor by whom or what surrounded. Séverac Bablon apparently was unarmed (save that his glance was a sword to stay almost any man); therefore he had others near to guard him. Baron Hague decided that to resort to personal violence at that juncture would be the height of unwisdom.
He sat down.
"Now," said Séverac Bablon, in turn resuming his seat, "let us consider this matter of the million pounds!"
"I will not——" began Hague.
Séverac Bablon checked him, with a gesture.
"You will not contribute to a fund designed to aid in the defence of England? That is unjust. You reap large profits from England, Baron. To mention but one instance—you must draw quite twenty thousand pounds per annum from the firm of Romilis and Imer, Hatton Garden!"
Baron Hague stared in angry bewilderment.