“Yes⁠—deuce take it! I have no other alternative.” He walked to the fireplace and warmed himself, humming the fag end of a tune in a rich convivial bass voice. “What does your side say?” he went on; “now pray tell me⁠—what does your side say?”

I was ashamed to tell him. I attempted to gain time⁠—nay, I did worse. My legal instincts got the better of me, and I even tried to bargain.

“Twenty thousand pounds is rather a large sum to be given up by the lady’s friends at two days’ notice,” I said.

“Very true,” replied Mr. Merriman, looking down thoughtfully at his boots. “Properly put, sir⁠—most properly put!”