"Not a dollar," admitted Challoner.
Colonel Hargraves rose; he threw into his glance all his knowledge of Challoner's past.
"You must take me for a fool!" he burst out, and started for the door.
But he had gone only a few steps when he felt Challoner's clutch; turning, he felt the power of Challoner's eyes; and presently under their compelling influence he found himself once more taking his seat. He made no attempt to analyse his sensations, but he realised that Challoner had made a new impression. In all the eventualities he had foreseen, he calculated on Challoner's being a weakling, a wreck. But to his astonishment he saw within those eyes nothing but success. Challoner had become a man not to be disregarded—a man of strength.
"My proposition is a perfectly fair one," went on Challoner. "You put up ten thousand cash——"
"And then—go on——"
Challoner lifted his arm and pointed silently in the direction of the "Drelincourt."
Incredulity shone in the eyes of Hargraves; his scorn found vent in an attempt at levity.
"Rather like putting up something that doesn't belong to you, eh, Challoner?"
Challoner was not feazed; it was the answer he expected.