“You liar!” exclaimed Crow again.
“Pardon me,” said Westerham, “but you really are mistaken.”
He put his hand into his breast and pulled out a pocket-book.
“Here,” he said, “I have the sum of ten thousand pounds in notes.”
Drawing them out, he flung them carelessly on the table.
So utterly were the men lost in amazement that they could do nothing but stare in silence at the notes.
“Now, I may as well be quite frank,” Westerham went on, “and tell you that I have not the slightest intention of handing those notes over to you. Nor, for that matter, do I intend having them stolen.
“You might take them from me, but you would merely have to destroy them, for I have taken the precaution of informing the bank that all these notes have been lost. I can well afford to let such a sum as this lie idle for a time, and the numbers were posted this afternoon.”
“Good Heavens!” said Crow once more.
“Now,” Westerham continued as evenly as ever, “I hope that this, to some extent, proves that what I say is true.”