To suggest dividing equally with Priam was the instinctive impulse, the fatal folly, of a born dealer.

And Mr.Oxford was a born dealer.
"I won't accept a penny," said Priam.

"And I can't help you in any way.
I'm afraid I must go now.

I'm late as it is." His cold resistless fury drove him forward, and, without the slightest regard for the amenities of clubs, he left the table, Mr.Oxford, becoming more and more the dealer, rose and followed him, even directed him to the gigantic cloak-room, murmuring the while soft persuasions and pacifications in Priam's ear.
"There may be an action in the courts," said Mr.Oxford in the grand entrance hall, "and your testimony would be indispensable to me." "I can have nothing to do with it.

Good-day!" The giant at the door could scarce open the gigantic portal quickly enough for him.