“I am too hot and too angry to argue,” retorted Pasco. “But I want to know something for certain about this Brimpts wood. It is well enough to cut it down, but what I want to know is, how will you transport the oak so as to make it pay?” “Sell on the spot.” “To whom?” “To timber merchants.” “They will reckon the cost of carriage.” “We shan’t have to pay for it.” “We shall sell at a good price.” “We shall sell! Such oak as Brimpts oak is not to be had every day.” “Have you offered it to anyone—advertised it?” “No, I have not. Time for that when it is all felled.” “You will make as much a misreckoning in this as you have along of the bark.” “Trust me. The oak will sell high.” “You said the same of the bark. All your ducks are swans. I _must_ have money.” “So must I,” said Quarm. “I want it as the March fields want April showers.” “I am in immediate need,” urged Pepperill. “In a fortnight I shall require money to pay the men their wages,” observed Quarm. “I have nothing. You were right; I have a cash-box, but no cash in it. I have paid away all I had.” “Dispose of something,” said Quarm cheerily. “Dispose of what? Coals? No one wants coals now.” “Then something else.” “Wool, and lose on every pound? That were fatal. I have not paid for all the wool yet. I want money to satisfy the coal-merchant, money to meet the bill I gave Coaker; and then the agent for the bank which has its hold on the Brimpts estate says we may not remove a stick till everything is paid.” “Then do not remove,” said Quarm. “Sell on the spot.” “To whom?” “There are plenty will buy.” “Why have you not advertised?” asked Pasco testily. “For one thing, because I did not know you were in immediate need of cash; for the other, because, till the timber is down, it cannot be measured. Never sell sticks standing. A timber merchant will always buy the trees before felled, and many a landowner is fool enough to sell standing trees. The merchant knows his gain; the landlord does not know his loss.” “Felled or unfelled, I must realise. My condition is desperate. I cannot meet any of the demands on me.” Pepperill had lost his purple colour. He wiped his brow again, but this time the drops did not rise from heat, but from uneasiness of mind. “You have drawn me into this Brimpts venture, and I have now all my fortunes on one bottom. If this fails, I am ruined; there will remain nothing for me but to sell Coombe Cellars, and then—I am cast forth as a beggar into the roads. I have trusted you; you must not fail me.” “Oh, all will come right in the end.” “The end—the end! It must come right now. I tell you that I have to meet the demands of the bank, or I can do nothing with the sale of the oak, and all now hangs on that. Owing to the ruinous purchase of Coaker’s fleeces, I am driven to desperate straits. I cannot sell them at a loss. I calculated it with the schoolmaster—a loss of some hundred and twenty pounds. You must help me out of my difficulty.”