"Safe there, Mrs. Mallathorpe," he said with a glance that was both reassuring and cunning. "But only for the night. I keep a few securities of my own at one of the banks in the town--never mind which--and that will shall be deposited with them tomorrow morning." Mrs. Mallathorpe shook her head. "No!" she said. "Because--you'll come to terms with me." Pratt shook his head, too, and he laughed. "Of course I shall come to terms with you," he answered. "But they'll be my terms--and they don't include any giving up of that document. That's flat, Mrs. Mallathorpe!" "Not if I make it worth your while?" she asked. "Listen!--you don't know what ready money I can command. Ready money, I tell you--cash down, on the spot!" "I've a pretty good notion," responded Pratt. "It's generally understood in the town that your son's a mere figure-head, and that you're the real boss of the whole show. I know that you're at the mill four times a week, and that the managers are under your thumb. I know that you manage everything connected with the estate. So, of course, I know you've lots of ready money at your disposal." "And I know that you don't earn more than four or five pounds a week, at the outside," said Mrs. Mallathorpe quietly. "Come, now--just think what a nice, convenient thing it would be to a young man of your age to have--a capital. Capital! It would be the making of you. You could go right away--to London, say, and start out on whatever you liked. Be sensible--sell me that paper--and be done with the whole thing." "No!" replied Pratt. Mrs. Mallathorpe looked at him for a full moment. She was a shrewd judge of character, and she felt that Pratt was one of those men who are hard to stir from a position once adopted. But she had to make her effort--and she made it in what she thought the most effective way. "I'll give you five thousand pounds--cash--for it," she said. "Meet me with it tomorrow--anywhere you like in the town--any time you like--and I'll hand you the money--in notes." "No!" said Pratt. "No!" Once more she looked at him. And Pratt looked back--and smiled. "When I say no, I mean no," he went on. "And I never meant 'No' more firmly than I do now." "I don't believe you," she answered, affecting a doubt which she certainly did not feel. "You're only holding out for more money." "If I were holding out for more money, Mrs. Mallathorpe," replied Pratt, "if I meant to sell you that will for cash payment, I should have stated my terms to you last night. I should have said precisely how much I wanted--and I shouldn't have budged from the amount. Mrs. Mallathorpe!--it's no good. I've got my own schemes, and my own ideas--and I'm going to carry 'em out. I want you to appoint me steward to your property, your affairs, for life." "Life!" she exclaimed. "Life!"