“Very well, then, you must choose between your bargain and me.”

“Wot do you mean, choose between my bargain and you?”

“I mean exactly what I say.  I know (if you don’t) that that two hundred ought to be three thousand, and if it isn’t paid I shall have to shunt the business.  I never meant to stay in it for ever, but in this case I shall simply clear out at once, that’s all.  See?”

“No.  I don’t see.  I don’t see myself paying three thousand to a man who’s willing to take two hundred.”

“See my point, I mean.  If the three thousand isn’t paid, I go.  On the other hand, if it is paid, I stay.”

This was one of those inspirations on which he had counted, and it presented itself to him as a “clincher.”  At the same instant he realized that he was selling himself into slavery for three thousand pounds.  No, not for three thousand pounds, for his honour’s sake and Lucia Harden’s.

Isaac looked graver, alarmed even; it struck him that Keith’s peculiar vein of extravagance was becoming dangerous.

“You can calculate the interest at four per cent., and knock a hundred and twenty off my salary, if you like; but I’ll stay.  It’s pretty clear, isn’t it?  I think, on the whole, it might be as well for you to close with the offer.  It seems to me that if I’m worth anything at all, I’m worth three thousand.”

“I haven’t priced your services yet.”  Isaac’s gaze shifted.  He was beginning to feel something of that profound discomfort he had experienced before in the presence of his son.  “Now, when you spoke to Miss ’Arden, had she any notion of the value of the library?”

“None whatever, till I told her.”

“Do you mean to stand there and say that you were fool enough to tell her?”

“Certainly; I thought it only fair to her.”

“And did you think it was fair to me?”

“Why not?  If you’re not dealing with her what difference could it make?”

He said to himself, “I’ve got him there!”

Isaac was indeed staggered by the blow, and lost his admirable composure.

“Do you know wot you’ve done?  You’ve compromised me.  You’ve compromised the honour and the reputation of my ’Ouse.  And you’ve done it for a woman.  You can’t ’ide it; you’re a perfect fool where women are concerned.”

“If anybody’s compromised, I think it’s me.  I pledged my word.”

“And wot business had you to pledge it?”

“Oh, I thought it safe.  I didn’t think you’d dishonour my draft on your reputation.”

“Draft indeed!  That’s it.  You might just as well ’ave taken my cheque-book out of the drawer there and forged my signature at the bottom.  Why, it’s moral forgery—­that’s wot it is.  I can see it all.  You thought you were acting very generous and grand with this young lady.  I say you were mean.  You did it on the cheap.  You’d no expense, or risk, or responsibility at all.  I know you can’t see it that way, but that’s ’ow it is.”