"I have made out to you a draft for more than enough, as I judge, to cover Mr. Barrymaine's liabilities."
"For how much, sir?"
"Twenty-two thousand pounds."
Then Jasper Gaunt stirred, sighed, and leaned forward in his chair.
"A handsome sum, sir,—a very handsome sum, but—" and he smiled and shook his head.
"Pray what do you mean by 'but'?" demanded Barnabas.
"That the sum is—inadequate, sir."
"Twenty-two thousand pounds is not enough then?"
"It is—not enough, Mr. Beverley."
"Then, if you will tell me the precise amount, I will make up the deficiency." But, here again, Jasper Gaunt smiled his slow smile and shook his head.
"That, I grieve to say, is quite impossible, Mr. Beverley."
"Why?"
"Because I make it a rule never to divulge my clients' affairs to a third party; and, sir,—I never break my rules."
"Then—you refuse to tell me?"
"It is—quite impossible."
So there fell a silence while the wide, fearless eyes of Youth looked into the narrow, watchful eyes of Experience. Then Barnabas rose, and began to pace to and fro across the luxurious carpet; he walked with his head bent, and the hands behind his back were tightly clenched. Suddenly he stopped, and throwing up his head faced Jasper Gaunt, who sat lolling back in his chair again.
"I have heard," said he, "that this sum was twenty thousand pounds, but, as you say, it may be more,—a few pounds more, or a few hundreds more."
"Precisely, Mr. Beverley."
"I am, therefore, going to make you an offer—"
"Which I must—refuse."
"And my offer is this: instead of twenty thousand pounds I will double the sum."
Jasper Gaunt's lolling figure grew slowly rigid, and leaning across the desk, he stared up at Barnabas under his hairless brows. Even Captain Slingsby stirred and lifted his heavy head.
"Forty thousand pounds!" said Jasper Gaunt, speaking almost in a whisper.
"Yes," said Barnabas, and sitting down, he folded his arms a little ostentatiously. Jasper Gaunt's head drooped, and he stared down at the papers on the desk before him, nor did he move, only his long, white fingers began to tap softly upon his chair-arms, one after the other.
"I will pay you forty thousand pounds," said Barnabas. Then, all in one movement as it seemed, Gaunt had risen and turned to the window, and stood there awhile with his back to the room.
"Well?" inquired Barnabas at last.
"I—cannot, sir."
"You mean—will not!" said Barnabas, clenching his fists.
"Cannot, sir." As Gaunt turned, Barnabas rose and approached him until barely a yard separated them, until he could look into the eyes that glittered between their hairless lids, very like the cruel-looking dagger on the wall.
"Very well," said Barnabas, "then I'll treble it. I'll pay you sixty thousand pounds! What do you say? Come—speak!" But now, the eyes so keen and sharp to read men and the ways of men wavered and fell before the indomitable steadfastness of unconquered Youth; the long, white hands beneath their ruffles seemed to writhe with griping, contorted fingers, while upon his temple was something that glittered a moment, rolled down his cheek, and so was gone.
"Speak!" said Barnabas.
Yet still no answer came, only Jasper Gaunt sank down in his chair with his elbows on the desk, his long, white face clasped between his long, white hands, staring into vacancy; but now his smooth brow was furrowed, his narrow eyes were narrower yet, and his thin lips moved as though he had whispered to himself "sixty thousand pounds!"
"Sir,—for the last time—do you accept?" demanded Barnabas.
Without glancing up, or even altering the direction of his vacant stare, and with his face still framed between his hands, Jasper Gaunt shook his head from side to side, once, twice, and thrice; a gesture there was no mistaking.
Then Barnabas fell back a step, with clenched fist upraised, but in that moment the Captain was before him and had caught his arm.
"By Gad, Beverley!" he exclaimed in a shaken voice, "are you mad?"
"No," said Barnabas, "but I came here to buy those bills, and buy them I will! If trebling it isn't enough, then—"
"Ah!" cried Slingsby, pointing to the usurer's distorted face, "can't you see? Don't you guess? He can't sell! No money-lender of 'em all could resist such an offer. I tell you he daren't sell, the bills aren't his! Come away—"
"Not his!" cried Barnabas, "then whose?"
"God knows! But it's true,—look at him!"
