"One thousand dollars a month, until paid, is little enough," answered Nipper.
"Oh, now the cat's out of the bag. That's what brought you on here, is it?" cried Blackoat. "I will not give it! I will not!"
"That settles it," replied Nipper quietly, and turning on his heel professed to be about to walk away, when the other grasped his arm.
"See here, Nipper," said he, in a tone of supplication, "be reasonable."
Nipper turned in a positive manner, and replied in a positive manner that admitted no protests:
"Blackoat it's forgery! You pay me one thousand dollars a month for the privilege of remaining out of states prison. You will either agree to that, and give me notes for it this very night, or I will sacrifice twenty thousand dollars to see you get your just deserts. You know me."
Alas, Mr. Arthur Blackoat did know him, and knew him only too well. He knew that this namesake of the original whaler could sacrifice twenty thousand dollars and still have many thousand left. He also knew that he would do it if so inclined. Therefore he remarked in a dejected voice:
"Nipper, it's the meanest piece of work I ever heard of. You knew of the stipulations of that will, and bought up those notes on speculation, and the face value would well repay the investment. It's the—"
"See here, no more of this, Blackoat," sternly interrupted the holder of the notes. "How I came by the paper is my business. That I do hold them, and in them have the power to send you to prison and ruin your chances to get one cent of the three hundred thousand dollars, is enough for you to know. Will you do as I demand? Answer yes or no?"
"It's an outrage, but I'll have to submit," replied Blackoat, angrily. "Come to the Monongahela House and I will give you my notes for it," and Mr. Blackoat turned toward his hotel, with Mr. Nipper quietly walking beside him.