“There's the mistake, my dear fellow. I don't want that. I don't want to be made supervisor of mad-houses, or overlooker of light-ships. Until office hours are comprised between five and six o'clock of the afternoon, and some of the cost of sealing-wax taken out in sandwiches, I don't mean to re-enter public life. I stand out for cash payment. I hope that's intelligible.” “Oh, perfectly so; but as impossible as intelligible.” “Then, in that case, there 's no more to be said. All apologies for having taken you so long from your friends. Good-night.” “Good-night,” said Balfour. “I 'm sorry we can't come to some arrangement. Good-night.” “As this document will now never see the light, and as all action in the matter will be arrested,” said Sewell, gravely, “I rely upon your never mentioning our present interview.” “I declare I don't see why I am precluded from speaking of it to my friends,--confidentially, of course.” “You had better not.” “Better not! better in what sense? As regards the public interests, or my personal ones?” “I simply repeat, you had better not.” He put on his hat as he spoke, and without a word of leave-taking moved towards the door. “Stop one moment,--a thought has just struck me. You like a sporting offer. I 'll bet you twenty pounds even, you 'll not let me read the contents of that paper; and I 'll lay you long odds--two hundred to one, in pounds--that you don't give it to me.” “You certainly _do_ like a good thing, Balfour. In plain words, you offer me two hundred and twenty. I 'll be shot if I see why they should have higgled so long about letting the Jews into Parliament when fellows like _you_ have seats there.” “Be good enough to remember,” said Balfour, with an easy smile, “that I 'm the only bidder, and if the article be not knocked down to me there's no auction.” “I was certain I'd hear that from you! I never yet knew a fellow do a stingy thing, that he had n't a shabbier reason to sustain it.” “Come, come, there's no need of this. You can say no to my offer without a rudeness to myself.” “Ay, that's all true, if one only had temper for it, but I have n't; and I have my doubts that even _you_ would if you were to be tried as sorely as I am.” “I never do get angry; a man shows his hand when he loses his temper, and the fellow who keeps cool can always look at the other's cards.” “Wise precepts, and worth coming out here to listen to,” said Sewell, whose thoughts were evidently directed elsewhere. “I take your offer; I only make one condition,--you keep the negotiation a secret, or only impart it where it will be kept secret.” “I think that's all fair. I agree to that. Now for the document” “There it is,” said Sewell, as he threw the packet on the table, while he seated himself in a deep chair, and crossed his arms on his chest.