as listening.

He shut the door.

"Well," said he, "have you got the money for me?"

Another man in Jones' position might have asked, and with reason. "What
money?"

Jones simply said "No."

This simple answer had a wonderful effect. Voles, about to take a seat,
remained standing, clasping the back of the chair he had chosen. Then he
burst out.

"You fooled me yesterday, and gave me an appointment for to-day. I
called, you were out."

"Was I?"

"Were you? You said the money would be here waiting for me--well, here I
am now, I've got a cab outside ready to take it."

"And suppose I don't give it to you?" asked Jones.

"We won't suppose any nonsense like that!" replied Voles taking his
seat, "not so long as there are policemen to be called at a minute's
notice."

"That's true," said the other, "we don't want the police."

"You don't," replied Voles. He was staring at Jones. The Earl of
Rochester's voice struck him as not quite the same as usual, more spring
in it and vitality--altered in fact. But he suspected nothing of the
truth. Passed as good coin by Voles, Jones had nothing to fear from any
man or woman in London, for the eye of Voles was unerring, the ear of
Voles ditto, the mind of Voles balanced like a jeweller's scales.

"True," said Jones. "I don't--well, let's talk about this money.
Couldn't you take half to-night, and half in a week's time?"

"Not me," replied the other. "I must have the two thousand to-night,
same as usual."

Jones had the whole case in his hands now, and he began preparing the
toast on which to put this most evident blackmailer when cooked.

His quick mind had settled everything. Here was the first obstacle in
his path, it would have to be destroyed, not surmounted. He determined
to destroy it. If the worst came to the worst, if whatever crime
Rochester had committed were to be pressed home on him by Voles, he
would declare everything, prove his identity by sending for witnesses
from the States, and show Rochester's letter. The blackmailing would
account for Rochester's suicide.

But Jones knew blackmailers, and he knew that Voles would never
prosecute. Rochester must indeed have been a weak fool not to have
grasped this nettle and torn it up by the roots. He forgot that
Rochester was probably guilty--that makes all the difference in the
world.

"You shall have the money," said he, "but see here, let's make an end of
this. Now let's see. How much have you had already