“I don’t know that, Jacob Gray,” remarked Learmont, calmly and firmly. “I have a long purse, you see, which you have not.” “There—is—something in that,” muttered Gray. “A man of your acuteness must perceive that there is a great deal in that,” continued Learmont. “Yes, truly; but still there would be danger, most imminent danger, squire.” “That I grant you, but yours, Jacob Gray, would far exceed mine. Be that, however, as it may, you must see how very desirable a consummation it would be if this swilling drunken knave, Britton, were some day to choke himself.” “Or be choked by Jacob Gray?” added Gray, with a smile of dark meaning. “Exactly,” said Learmont. “It may be done easily. Invite him to your house; feast with him, plan and plot with him; give him wine; and then, some day, when time and circumstances are fitting, I will give you a drug of such potency, that, if ever so slightly used in his wine-cup, will seize upon the springs of life, and at once, you will see, Master Gray, you are rid of this dangerous man.” “And rid you likewise of him,” interposed Gray. “Of course; but I gain little—you everything—by his death—safety and wealth!” “It might be done,” murmured Gray, “if it could be done safely.” “With your caution,” suggested Learmont, “with but a little of the admirable cunning you have as yet displayed in this business, methinks it might be possible, Master Gray, for you to overreach in some way so dull-witted a villain as this Britton, who, you see, stands so much in the way of your fortunes.” “If,” muttered Gray, “it can be done at all by me, that poison draught you mentioned is, to my mind, the most ready, and—and—” “Safe,” added Learmont. “Well, safe be it,” said Gray. “There is no occasion for a greater risk than necessary.” “None in the least,” sneered Learmont: “you will then do your best, Master Gray, to rid yourself of this sot, this incubus upon you, this villain, whom I hate as—as—” “As you hate me!” said Gray, twinkling his small eyes, and peering in the face of Learmont. “No,” said Learmont; “you are not so dangerous because you are more cautious; but, Jacob Gray, is it not possible that, should you succeed in ridding yourself of this Britton, you may think it worth your while to name some price for the only thing I dread?” “The child?” “Yes: think of my words.” “I will think,” said Gray; “but now I must be gone.” Learmont placed in his hands a purse of gold, and with a shifting, low-cunning glance of his little grey eyes, the wily villain left the place muttering— “Humph!—He wants to kill my goose, to get all the golden eggs at once. Indeed!—we shall see!” CHAPTER XV. Chase.—A Long Race, And its Results.