"Ten thousand shall come to you the day Count Peschiera marries the
daughter of his kinsman with your help and aid; the remaining ten
thousand I will lend you. No scruple, I shall hazard nothing, the
estates will bear that additional burden. What say you,--shall it be
so?"

"Ten thousand pounds from Count Peschiera!" said Randal, breathing hard.
"You cannot be serious? Such a sum--for what?--for a mere piece of
information? How otherwise can I aid him? There must be trick and
deception intended here."

"My dear fellow," answered Levy, "I will give you a hint. There is such
a thing in life as being over-suspicious. If you have a fault, it is
that. The information you allude to is, of course, the first assistance
you are to give. Perhaps more may be needed, perhaps not. Of that you
will judge yourself, since the L10,000 are contingent on the marriage
aforesaid."

"Over-suspicious or not," answered Randal, "the amount of the sum is too
improbable, and the security too bad, for me to listen to this
proposition, even if I could descend to--"

"Stop, /mon cher/. Business first, scruples afterwards. The security
too bad; what security?"

"The word of Count di Peschiera."

"He has nothing to do with it, he need know nothing about it. 'T is my
word you doubt. I am your security."