"How much do you want for it?" he asked, with a slight tremor in
his voice.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars seems a fair demand," said my father, "in
notes, if you please."

"What!" my uncle shouted.

My father seated himself on the edge of the table, and surveyed his
visitor intently.

"Be silent," he said. "Silent and very careful, Jason. You seem to forget
that I am a dangerous man." And he flicked an imaginary bit of dust from
his cuff. My uncle gave a hasty glance at the half opened door.

"And now listen to me," my father continued, his voice still gently
conversational. "You have tried to frighten me, Jason. You should have
known better. Of all the people in the world I fear you least. You forget
that I am growing old, and all my senses are becoming duller--fear along
with the rest. You have tried to cheat me of the money I have demanded,
and it has tried my patience. In fact, it has set my nerves quite on
edge. Pray do not irritate me again. I know you must have that paper, and
I know why. The price I offer is a moderate one compared with the
unpleasantness that may occur to you if you do not get it. Never mind
what occurrence. I know that you have come here prepared to pay that
price. The morning is getting on. You have the money in your inside
pocket. Bring it out and count it--twenty-five thousand dollars."

Hesitatingly my uncle produced a packet that crackled pleasantly.