"Is that Master Ronaldson?" he asked, in a thin, quavering tone. "I've signed 'em, sir. Have yer brought the money? I'm a poor old man, and I need a drop of something now and then to keep the life in me. If yer'll just hand over a trifle I'll send out for--eh--eh, my landlord, he's a kindly man--he'll fetch it. Eh? Two of yer! I don't see so well as I did. Is that you, Mr. Ronaldson, sir?" Fardell threw some silver coins upon the table. The old man snatched them up eagerly. "It's not Mr. Ronaldson," he said, "but I daresay we shall do as well. We want to talk to you about those papers there." The old man nodded. He was gazing at the silver in his hand. "I've writ it all out," he muttered. "I told 'un I would. A pound a week for ten years. That's what I 'ad! And then it stopped! Did she mean me to starve, eh? Not I! John Parkins knows better nor that. I've writ it all out, and there's my signature. It's gospel truth, too." "We are going to buy the truth from you," Fardell said. "We have more money than Ronaldson. Don't be afraid. We have gold to spare where Ronaldson had silver." The old man lifted the candle with shaking fingers. Then it dropped with a crash to the ground, and lay there for a moment spluttering. He shrank back. "It's 'im!" he muttered. "Don't kill me, sir. I mean you no harm. It's Mr. Mannering!" CHAPTER V THE JOURNALIST INTERVENES The old man had sunk into a seat. His face and hands were twitching with fear. His eyes, as though fascinated, remained fixed upon Mannering's. All the while he mumbled to himself. Fardell drew Mannering a little on one side. "What can we do with him?" he asked. "We might tear up those sheets, give him money, keep him soddened with drink. And even then he'd give the whole show away the moment any one got at him. It isn't so bad as he makes out, I suppose?" "It is not so bad as that," Mannering answered, "but it is bad enough." "What became of the woman?" Fardell asked. "Parkins's mistress, I mean?" "She is my wife," Mannering answered. Fardell threw out his hands with a little gesture of despair. "We must get him away from here," he said. "If Polden gets hold of him you might as well resign at once. It is dangerous for you to stay. He was evidently expecting that fellow Ronaldson to-night." Mannering nodded. "What shall you do with him?" he asked. "Hide him if I can," Fardell answered, grimly. "If I can get him out of this place, it ought not to be impossible. The most important thing at present is for you to get away without being recognized." Mannering took up his hat. "I will go," he said. "I shall leave the cab for you. I can find my way back to the hotel." Fardell nodded. "It would be better," he said. "Turn your coat-collar up and draw your hat down over your eyes. You mustn't be recognized down here. It's a pretty low part."