Part 23 (1/2)
”The bigger your promise the greater your success. I've always found it the same with all the wheezes I've worked,” he replied. ”I saw you driving with Brooker's daughter a few days ago. You seem to be having an uncommonly good time of it,” he added.
”Can't complain,” Zertho said, leaning back with a self-complacent air.
”Patrician life suits me after being so many years an outsider.”
”No doubt it is pleasant,” his companion answered with a meaning look, ”if one can completely bury the past.”
”I have buried it,” Zertho answered quickly.
Max Richards, the inventor of ”The Agony of Monte Carlo,” regarded the man before him with a supercilious smile. ”And you pay me to prevent its exhumation--eh?”
”I thought we had agreed not to mention the matter again,” Zertho exclaimed, darting at his crafty-looking fellow-adventurer a look of annoyance and suspicion.
”My dear fellow,” answered the other quite calmly, ”I have no desire to refer to it. If you are completely without regret, and your mind is perfectly at ease, well, I'm only too happy to hear it. I have sincere admiration, I a.s.sure you, for a man who can forget at will. I wish I could.”
”I do not forget,” Zertho snapped. ”Your confounded demands will never allow me to forget.”
The thin-faced man smiled, lazily watching the smoke ascend from an unusually good weed.
”It is merely payment for services rendered,” he observed. ”I'm not the lucky heir to an estate, therefore I can't afford to give people a.s.sistance gratis.”
”No,” cried Zertho in a tumult of anger at the remembrance of recent occurrences. ”No, you're an infernal blackmailer!”
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.
”But I tell you I won't stand it any longer. You've strained the cord until it must now snap.”
”Very well, my dear fellow,” answered the other, with an air of impudent nonchalance. ”You know your own business best. Act as you think fit.”