Westerham stroked his chin thoughtfully and fixed Patmore with his keen eyes.
“Well,” he said slowly, “even that might not be too much.”
The man shot a quick, keen glance at him, and gave another little laugh.
“I daresay,” he said, “but still I don't believe you.”
“That is rather foolish of you,” said Westerham, “considering how little I ask. I don't want to embroil you; I ask for nothing better than to be told where I can find Lady Kathleen.”
For a few moments the man seemed to be considering the proposal. But finally he pushed the notes with an impatient gesture of his hand towards Westerham.
“No,” he said, “it's not worth the risk. The other way the money's certain. You may be a mug, but not such a mug as to pay over a cool million for information of that sort. Besides, it can't be done. The sum is too big, and what is more, as I said just now, I don't trust you.”
Westerham gathered the notes up and replaced them in his pocket. “Very well,” he said, “what do you suggest?”
“If you ask me,” replied Patmore, “Melun's making a fool of himself. He is crazy after the girl, and he is crazy after cutting a fine figure in society. He still insists upon having a quarter of a million and a marriage with Lady Kathleen. What's more, it's got to be settled to-night. You hand over the dibs in the morning, and we will tell you where the girl is in the afternoon. But no hank! I tell you frankly again that I consider Melun is a fool. He is prepared to take your word for it that no questions shall be asked and that the business goes no further. The question is whether I am going to get your word?”
Westerham knew well enough what his answer must be, but he stood for some moments with his eyes cast on the ground, as though he were weighing the matter carefully.