"You must do that," Nevill interrupted. "If I went, it might lead to awkward complications in the future."
"It's the worst part, and I confess I don't like it. But I'll take a night to think it over, and give you an answer to-morrow. It's an ugly undertaking—"
"But a safe one. If it comes off all right, I want £500 cash down, on account."
"It is not certain that it will come off at all," said Stephen Foster, as he rose. "Come in to-morrow afternoon. Oh, I believe I promised you some commission to-day."
"Yes; sixty pounds."
The check was written, and Nevill pocketed it with a nod. He put on his hat, moved to the door, and paused.
"By the by, there's a new thing on at the Frivolity—awfully good," he said. "Miss Foster might like to see it. We could make up a little party of three—"
"Thank you, but my daughter doesn't care for theatres. And, as you know, I spend my evenings at home."
"I don't blame you," Nevill replied, indifferently. "It's a snug and jolly crib you have down there by the river. And the fresh air does a fellow a lot of good. I feel like a new man when I come back to town after dining with you. One gets tired of clubs and restaurants."
"Come out when you like," said Stephen Foster, in a voice that lacked warmth and sincerity.