“Will it be bearing false witness to say that Miss Shotover does not know the sort of man who wants to marry her? Does she know why he wants to marry her? Does her father know that you are in the clutches of a money-lender?” Marway caught hold of Clare and threatened to kill him. Clare did not flinch, and he calmed down a little. “What do you want to square it?” he growled. “I don’t understand you,” returned Clare. “What’s the size of your tongue-plaster?” “I don’t know much slang.” “What bribe will silence you then? I hope that is plain enough--even for _your_ comprehension!” “If I had meant to hold my tongue, I should have held it.” “What do you want, then?” “To keep you from marrying Miss Shotover.” “By Jove! And suppose I kick you into the gutter, and tell you to mind your own business--what then?” “I will tell either your father or Mr. Shotover all about it.” “Even you can’t be such a fool! What good would it do you? You’re not after her yourself, are you?--Ha! ha!--that’s it! I didn’t nose that!--But come, hang it! where’s the _use_?--I’ll give you four flimsies--there! Twenty pounds, you idiot! There!” “Mr. Marway, nothing will make me hold my tongue--not even your promise to drop the thing.” “Then what made you come and cheek me? Impudence?” “Not at all! I should have been glad enough not to have to do it! I came to you for my own sake.” “That of course!” “I came because I would do nothing underhand!” “What are you going to do next, then?” “I am going to tell Mr. Shotover, or Admiral Marway--I haven’t yet made up my mind which.” “What are you going to tell them?” “That old Lewin has given you three months to get engaged to Miss Shotover, or take the consequences of not being able to pay what you owe him.” “And you don’t count it underhand to carry such a tale?” “I do not. It would have been if I hadn’t told you first. I would tell Miss Shotover, only, if she be anything of a girl, she wouldn’t believe me.” “I should think not! Come, come, be reasonable! I always thought you a good sort of fellow, though I _was_ rough on you, I confess. There! take the money, and leave me my chance.” “No. I will save the lady if I can. She shall at least know the sort of man you are.” “Then it’s war to the knife, is it?” “I mean to tell the truth about you.” “Then do your worst. You shall black my boots again.” “If I do, I shall have the penny first.” “You cringing flunkey!” “I haven’t cringed to you, Mr. Marway!” Marway tried to kick him, failed, and strode into the dark between him and the lamps of the town. Chapter LXII. THE CAGE OF THE PUMA.