What if ye have give me thousands upon thousands," continued he, his
former good-humoured expression entirely vanishing; "it's nothing more than
you ought to do for keeping yer secrets for ye--and as long as ye have
money, ye may expect to share it with me: so make me out a good heavy
cheque, and say no more about it."
"What do you call a heavy cheque?" asked Stevens, in a despairing tone.
"Five or six thousand," coolly answered his visitor.
"Five or six thousand!" echoed Mr. Stevens, "it is impossible."
"It had better not be," said McCloskey, looking angry; "it had better not
be--I'm determined not to be leading a beggar's life, and you to be a
rolling in wealth."
"I can't give it, and won't give it--if it must come to that," answered
Stevens, desperately. "It is you that have the fortune--I am only your
banker at this rate. I can't give it to you--I haven't got that much
money."
"You must find it then, and pretty quick at that," said McCloskey. "I'm not
to be fooled with--I came here for money, and I must and will have it."
"I am willing to do what is reasonable," rejoined Mr. Stevens, in a more
subdued tone. "You talk of thousands as most men do of hundreds. I really
haven't got it."
"Oh, bother such stuff as that," interrupted McCloskey, incredulously.
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