ere first. Now, Myerst, my man, sit down in that
chair--it's the heaviest the place affords. Into it, now! Spargo, you
see that coil of rope there. Tie Myerst up--hand and foot--to that
chair. And tie him well. All the knots to be double, Spargo, and behind
him."

Myerst suddenly laughed. "You damned young bully!" he exclaimed. "If
you put a rope round me, you're only putting ropes round the necks of
these two old villains. Mark that, my fine fellows!"

"We'll see about that later," answered Breton. He kept Myerst covered
while Spargo made play with the rope. "Don't be afraid of hurting him,
Spargo," he said. "Tie him well and strong. He won't shift that chair
in a hurry."

Spargo spliced his man to the chair in a fashion that would have done
credit to a sailor. He left Myerst literally unable to move either hand
or foot, and Myerst cursed him from crown to heel for his pains.
"That'll do," said Breton at last. He dropped his revolver into his
pocket and turned to the two old men. Elphick averted his eyes and sank
into a chair in the darkest corner of the room: old Cardlestone shook
as with palsy and muttered words which the two young men could not
catch. "Guardian," continued Breton, "don't be frightened! And don't
you be frightened, either, Mr. Cardlestone. There's nothing to be
afraid of, just yet, whatever there may be later on. It seems to me
that Mr. Spargo and I came just in time. Now, guardian, what was this
fellow after?"

Old Elphick lifted his head and shook it; he was plainly on the verge
of tears; as for Cardlestone, it was evident that his nerve was
completely gone. And Breton pointed Spargo to an old corner cupboard.

"Spargo," he said, "I'm pretty sure you'll find whisky in there. Give
them both a stiff dose: they've broken up. Now, guardian," he
continued, when Spargo had carried out this order, "what was he after?
Shall I suggest it? Was it--blackmail?"

Cardlestone began to whimper; Elphick nodded his head. "Yes, yes!" he
muttered. "Blackmail! That was it--blackmail. He--he got
money--papers--from us. They're on him."

Breton turned on the captive with a look of contempt.

"I thought as much, Mr. Myerst," he said. "Spargo, let's see what he
has on him."

Spargo began to search the prisoner's pockets. He laid out everything
on the table as he found it. It was plain that Myerst had contemplated
some sort of flight or a long, long journey. There was a quantity of
loose gold; a number of bank-