'I don't know about a good chance. Some chance, shall we say?' He was more than tolerant; he was interested in Peggy's development of her idea. Peggy leant her elbows on the writing-table between them. 'I want her to be rid of the whole thing--to think it never happened. I want you to take those shares from her: tell her that they've become of value, or that you made a mistake, or anything you like of that sort, and that you'll relieve her of them. If you did that, how much money should you want?' 'You wish this done out of kindness? To take a weight off Mrs. Trevalla's mind?' 'Yes, to take a weight off her mind. It's funny, but she frets more over having bungled her money affairs and having been made--having been silly, you know--than over anything else. She's very proud, you see.' Fricker's smile broadened. 'I can quite believe she's proud,' he remarked. 'Of course she knows nothing about my being here. It's my own idea. You see what I want, don't you?' 'As a business transaction, I confess I don't quite see it. If you appeal to my good-nature, and ask me to make sacrifices for Mrs. Trevalla----' 'No. I don't expect you to lose by it.' Fricker saw the look that she could not keep out of her eyes. He smiled fixedly at her. 'But I thought that, if you could satisfy them--or get off somehow--for--well, one thousand pounds or--or at most one thousand five hundred pounds' (Peggy was very agitated over her amounts), 'that--that I and some other friends could manage that, and then--why, we'd tell her it was all right!' A hint of triumph broke through her nervousness as she declared her scheme. 'I can't be absolutely sure of the money except my own, but I believe I could get it.' She worked up to a climax. 'I can give you five hundred pounds now--in notes, if you like,' she said, producing a little leather bag of a purse. Fricker gave a short dry laugh; the whole episode amused him very much, and Peggy's appearance also gratified his taste. She unfastened the bag, and he heard her fingers crackle the notes, as she sat with her eyes fixed on his; appeal had been banished from Peggy's words, it spoke in her eyes in spite of herself. 'Mrs. Trevalla has perhaps told you something of her relations with me?' asked Fricker, clasping his long spare hands on the table. 'I don't defend her: but you don't fight with women, Mr. Fricker?' 'There are no women in business matters, Miss Ryle.' 'Or with people who are down?' 'Not fight, no. I keep my foot on them.' He took up a half-smoked cigar and relit it.