Richards smiled, quite undisturbed by his visitor’s sudden ebullition of wrath, and, turning to him said,—
“My dear fellow, whatever can you gain by blackguarding me? Why, every word you utter is in self-condemnation.”
Zertho was silent. Yes, it was the truth what this man said. He was a fool to allow his anger to get the better of him. Was it not Napoleon who boasted that the success of all his great schemes was due to the fact that he never permitted his anger to rise above his throat?
His face relaxed into a sickly smile.
“I’m weary of your constant begging and threatening,” he said at last. “I was a fool in the first instance. If I had allowed you to speak no one would have believed you. Instead of that, I generously gave you the money you wanted.”
“I’m glad you say ‘generously’,” his companion observed, smiling. “Generosity isn’t one of your most engaging characteristics.”
“Well, I’ve been generous to you—too generous, for you have now increased your demands exorbitantly.”
“I’m poor—while you can afford to pay.”
“I can’t—I won’t afford,” retorted Zertho, determinedly. “When men grow wealthy they are always imposed upon by men such as you,” he added. “I admit that the service you rendered deserved payment. Well, I liquidated the debt honourably. Then you immediately levied blackmail, and have ever since continued to send me constant applications for money.”
“A man who can afford to forget his past can afford to be reminded of the debt he owes,” answered the man, still smoking with imperturbable coolness.