"Well?" said Boris. "And what of it?"
"Then," Paul continued coolly, "such a sum as two hundred thousand roubles would not come amiss to you. Such a sum I am prepared to pay you—under certain conditions."
All the pleasantness in Paul's face vanished again, and he looked at Boris with narrowed eyes.
"You realize that in my offering you such a sum," he said, "it will, of course, cost you something to earn it. A man who speculates must spend his own money to gain other people's. A criminal—you must forgive the word, but it is necessary—who seeks to make a great coup at the expense of others must put up a certain amount of money to bring it off.
"I think, however, that I am offering you quite enough to enable you to buy either the silence or the inactivity of your fellow criminals. Two hundred thousand roubles is a good deal of money, and your gang cannot be so large that you will not be able to afford a sufficient sum to render them your servants."
"Have a care," cried Boris, angrily, at last; "you don't know what you say."
"What do you mean?" demanded Paul.
"I mean," said Boris, "that I do not propose to be insulted any longer in my own house. Your offer of money is an affront which you will pay well for." He looked thoughtfully away for a few moments; then he turned sharply.
"I will be perfectly frank with you," he said with an amazingly good attempt at breezy honesty. "All of my friends are not particularly nice people, and if they had any idea that you were objectionable to me, not even the consideration of tapping your vast wealth would restrain them from putting you out of the way."
"There is such a thing," said Paul, lightly, "as killing the goose which lays the golden eggs."