“You cannot expect me to reply to that question,” said Birney; “I am acting professionally under the advice and instructions of others; but I will tell you what I think you had better do—­I can enter into no negotiation on the subject without consulting those who have employed me, and getting their consent—­write down, then, on a sheet of paper, what you propose to do for us, and the compensation which you expect to receive for any documents you may supply us with that we may consider of value, and I shall submit it for consideration.”

“May I not compromise myself by putting it on paper, though?”

“If you think so, then, don’t do it; but, for my part, I shall have no further concern in the matter.  Verbal communications are of little consequence in an affair of this kind.  Reduce it to writing, and it can be understood; it will, besides, prevent misconceptions in future.”

“I trust you are a man of honor?” said Norton.

“I make no pretensions to anything so high,” replied Birney; “but I trust I am an honest man, and know how to act when I have an honest man to deal with.  If you wish to serve our cause, or, to be plain with you, wish to turn the documents you speak of to the best advantage, make your proposal in writing, as you ought to do, otherwise I must decline any further negotiation on the subject.”

Norton saw and felt that there was nothing else for it.  He accordingly took pen and ink and wrote down his proposal—­offering to place the documents alluded to, which were mentioned by name, in the hands of Mr. Birney, for the sum of five thousand pounds.”

“Now, sir,” said Birney, after looking over this treacherous proposition, “you see yourself the advantage of putting matters down in black and white.  The production of this will save me both time and trouble, and, besides, it can be understood at a glance.  Thank you, sir.  Have the goodness to favor me with a call in a day or two, and we shall see what can be done.”

“This,” said Norton, as he was about to go, “is a point of honor between us.”

“Why, I think, at all events, it ought,” replied Bimey; “at least, so far as I am concerned, it is not my intention to act dishonorably by any honest man.”

“Haw—­haw!  Very well said, indeed; I ’ave a good opinion of your discretion.

“Well, sir, I wish you good morneen; I shall call in a day or two, and expect to ’ave a satisfactory answer.”

“What a scoundrel!” exclaimed Birney.

“Here’s a fellow, now, who has been fleecing that unfortunate sheep of a nobleman for the last four years, and now that he finds him at the length of his tether, he is ready to betray and sacrifice him, like a double-distilled rascal as he is.  The villain thought I did not know him, but he was mistaken—­quite out in his calculations.  He will find, too, that he has brought his treachery to the wrong market.”

CHAPTER XXXIX.  Fenton Recovered—­The Mad-House