The visitor fixed his eyes keenly on the merchant as he said this.
There was a momentary pause. Then he resumed.
"I shall only want about ten thousand dollars, though; and this you must obtain for me."
"Martin! Do you think I am made of money?" exclaimed Jasper, starting to his feet, and facing his companion, in the attitude and with the expression of a man who, finding himself in the presence of an enemy, assumes the defensive.
"Oh no," was the quiet answer—"not made of money. But, for a particular friend, you can no doubt, easily raise such a trifle as ten thousand dollars?"
"Trifle! You mock me, sir!"
"Don't get excited about this matter, Mr. Jasper," coolly returned Martin, whose name the reader has probably recognised as that of an agent employed by the merchant and Grind, the lawyer, some years before, in making investigations relative to the existence of coal on certain lands not far from Reading, Pennsylvania. "Don't get excited," he repeated. "That will do no good. I have not come to rob you. I don't ask you to give me ten thousand dollars. All I want is a loan, for which I will pledge good security."
"What kind of security?" asked Jasper quickly.
"Security on my lead-mine."
"Pooh! I wouldn't give the snap of a finger for such security!"
Jasper, thrown off his guard, spoke more contemptuously than was prudent.