He had measured his right by measuring his strength, and had not failed to take his pound of flesh.
In brief, Mr.Harley, possessing, like many another fat gentleman, those numerous porcine traits of brutal selfishness and a lack of sentiment or sympathy, had considered always his own interests, following them though they took him roughshod over another's dearest hopes.

For which good reasons Mr.Harley had foes, and knew it; there would be no absence of rejoicing over his downfall.
But what could Mr.Harley offer for defense?
What, beyond mere compliance with Storri's wishes, might avert those calamities that seemed swinging in the air above him?
He considered everything, and devised nothing; he was like a man without eyes or as one shut in by night.

In his desperation, a flighty thought of taking Storri's life appealed to him for one murderous moment.

It was only for a moment, and then he thrust it aside with a shudder; not from any morality, but his instant common sense showed how insane it would be as a method of escape, and with that he shrunk back from it as from a precipice.

And yet there was to be no standing still; he must push on in some direction.
Mr.Harley, being himself a business soul, did not omit to consider how far Storri might be held at bay by showing him the certain destruction of Credit Magellan, should he persist to the bitter length of forgery charges and open war.