“I asked you to name your price,” he said. “What is it?”
Max Richards, lying back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, turned towards his visitor and answered,—
“I have offered to treat with you, but you refused. My offer is therefore withdrawn. I have enough money at present. When I want more I shall come to you.”
“But, my dear fellow,” exclaimed Zertho, dismayed, “you cannot mean that you refuse to accept anything further for the slight service you have, up to the present, rendered me?”
“Our compact is at an end,” the man answered coldly. “No word will pass my lips on one condition, namely, that you release Liane, and—”
“I will never do that!” he cried in fierce determination. “She shall be my wife. Come, name your own terms.”
“Ah! I thought you would not be so unwise as to utterly defy me!” exclaimed the man, smiling in triumph. “The prize is too great to relinquish, eh?”
Zertho nodded.
“Come, don’t name a figure too exorbitant. Let it be within reason,” he said.
“It will be entirely within reason,” the other answered, fixing his dark eyes intently upon Zertho’s.