"When you said you were starving--perfectly."
"You offered me something if I would sell you some compositions of mine that are buried in Iceland."
"And you said you would die in a ditch first."
"Would you still be disposed to take your chance with them?"
"Why not? My father is Minister now--there ought to be no difficulty."
"And you would be prepared to pay me the money at once?"
"Certainly--as soon as you are ready to sign the necessary authorization."
"I'm ready to sign it now," said Oscar in the same tremulous voice.
Within ten minutes everything was settled, and Oscar was pocketing the notes that were being paid on Finsen's account from the treasury of the Casino. His hands were trembling, his lips quivering, and his face was white.
"So you're caught by the fever at last, old fellow," laughed Finsen. "And what you wouldn't do before to feed your stomach, you are doing now to feed your luck."