There was dead silence for at least two minutes. Kettering had his brows together thinking. A hundred thousand pounds. It meant Mirelle and a continuance of his pleasant, careless life. It meant that Van Aldin knew something. Van Aldin did not pay for nothing. He got up and stood by the chimneypiece.

“And in the event of my refusing his handsome offer?” he asked, with a cold, ironical politeness.

Knighton made a deprecating gesture.

“I can assure you, Mr. Kettering,” he said earnestly, “that it is with the utmost unwillingness that I came here with this message.”

“That’s all right,” said Kettering. “Don’t distress yourself; it’s not your fault. Now then⁠—I asked you a question, will you answer it?”

Knighton also rose. He spoke more reluctantly than before.