men, when you've settled with me," said the man
sternly, and he jerked one hand up to his neck again, and withdrew it
with a gesture of annoyance. "Come, Stratton, it's only a few lines
written with a pen, and you win all you want. Where do you keep your
cheque-book? In your table-drawer."

"There is only one way out of the difficulty, Brettison," said Stratton
with a sigh.

"Only one," said the old man sadly.

"Bravo, that's common-sense," cried the man. "Sound wisdom. I told you
so. Out with that cheque-book at once."

"I'm afraid, sir," said Stratton sternly, "that we are at cross
purposes."

"What do you mean?"

"That no money would ever buy your silence, even if I were disposed to
play the part of scoundrel. You will get no hush money from me."

"What?"

"There is only one way out of this difficulty."

"Oh, indeed!" said the man sarcastically; "and that is--"

"To hand you over to the police."

"What?"

"You heard my words, sir! I need not repeat them. The prison is the
only place for such as you, where the power of doing mischief is beyond
you. Brettison, go down and fetch a policeman--two--at once."

"Let him stir, and I'll send a bullet through his skull," cried the man
fiercely, as his hand was thrust behind him beneath his coat.

"Go at once, Brettison, I'll take care he does not harm you."

"Don't listen to him, you, sir," cried the scoundrel. "I warn you; you
stir from that chair and you're a dead man!"

"My dear Stratton," said Brettison, rising from his sea.

"Go at once! Never mind his threats," said Stratton fiercely.

"All right, I've warned you," said the man, drawing back his lips from
his teeth like some wild animal about to bite, and, stepping quickly to
the door, he stood near it with his hand behind him still, as if about
to draw a revolver from his hip pocket.

Brettison did not stir.

"He has a pistol there," he whispered.

"Of course. Suppose I was coming on a job like this, to make my
gentleman there disgorge, and not have a mate to back me? Now, then,
both of you; it's of no use to get into a passion. You threaten police.
I checkmate you with the little tool I have here--my reserve force.
There, you had better take it quietly, Stratton. What are a few
hundreds to you? I give up the girl and her fortune; what more do you
want? As for myself, I only wish for enough to live comfortably and in
peace without troubling anybody. There, let's talk again l