He pulled himself out of his chair, found a clean glass, and took a stiff drink.
And his partner, watching him, saw that his hands, too, were shaking.
"That's a facer!" said Mallalieu.

His voice had grown stronger, and the colour came back to his cheeks.

"A real facer! As you say--after thirty years! It's hard--it's blessed hard! And--what does he want?
What's he going to do ?" "Wants to blackmail us, of course," replied Cotherstone, with a mirthless laugh.

"What else should he do?
What could he do?
Why, he could tell all Highmarket who we are, and----" "Aye, aye!--but the thing is here," interrupted Mallalieu.
"Supposing we do square him ?--is there any reliance to be placed on him then?
It 'ud only be the old game--he'd only want more." "He said an annuity," remarked Cotherstone, thoughtfully.

"And he added significantly, that he was getting an old man." "How old ?" demanded Mallalieu.
"Between sixty and seventy," said Cotherstone.