"Eldrick will believe me before you," retorted Parrawhite, imperturbably. "I'm a much cleverer, more plausible man than you are, my friend—I've had an experience of the world which you haven't. I can easily invent a fine excuse for being in that room. For two pins I'll incriminate you! See? Be reasonable—for if it comes to a contest of brains, you haven't a rabbit's chance against a fox. Tell me all about the will—and what you've done. You've got to—for, by the Lord Harry!—I'm going to have my share. Come, now!"
Pratt stood, in a little hollow wherein they had paused, and thought, rapidly and angrily. There was no doubt about it—he was trapped. This fearful scoundrel at his side, who boasted of his cleverness, would stick to him like a leach—he would have to share. All his own smart schemes for exploiting Mrs. Mallathorpe, for ensuring himself a competence for life, were knocked on the head. There was no helping it—he would have to tell—and to share. And so, sullenly, resentfully, he told.
Parrawhite listened in silence, taking in every point. Pratt, knowing that concealment was useless, told the truth about everything, concisely, but omitting nothing.
"All right!" remarked Parrawhite at the end, "Now, then, what terms do you mean to insist on?"
"What's the good of going into that?" growled Pratt. "Now that you've stuck your foot in it, what do my terms matter?"
"Quite right," agreed Parrawhite. "They don't. What matter is—our terms. Now let me suggest—no, insist on—what they must be. Cash! Do you know why I insist on that? No? Then I'll tell you. Be-