“I am just going, Mr. Barton. I was only about to say that it would not be a pleasant thing for you when you were walking in your garden in the dusk of evening, smoking your pipe—I suppose you do smoke?—to have a bullet put suddenly into you from behind a hedge. I am afraid by what I hear that it is not unlikely. I only mention it as a friend, you know. Good morning.” Mr. Barton turned very pale. He was, as has been said, physically a coward, and this picture Prescott had drawn cowed him at once. He put his back against the door. “What do you mean, Mr. Prescott, are you threatening me?” “I!” Prescott said, in a surprised tone. “I! just the contrary, Mr. Barton. Why, you don’t suppose, man, do you, that I would hire a man to murder you because you decline to furnish me with a necessary link in a chain of evidence.” And Prescott laughed pleasantly. “I was only acting as a friend, you know, Mr. Barton. One hears things sometimes, and if a word of warning can avert mischief, of course one gives it. Good morning.” Barton irresolutely half moved away from the door, and then his fear got the better of him, and he determined to see whether it was a mere threat or a real danger. “I have done my duty,” he said sturdily, “and I am afraid of no man.” “Very right, Barton, ‘do your duty and fear no man’ is an excellent rule to act on. Still, you know, men sometimes have a little malice among themselves, even against men who have done their duty. Now, I will give you a case in point. At the Chartist business three years ago, the men knew that their plans were betrayed and their leaders transported by the information of a man who called himself a joiner, of Clerkenwell. They have sworn to murder him if they find him out, and, upon my word, I believe they will keep their oath. I know that they never have found out who it was, but I have heard that at two o’clock this afternoon they are to be told. Now there is a case in point. Supposing that informer had been yourself, I ask you, would it be safe for you to indulge in an evening pipe in your garden?” Mr. Barton actually trembled with terror and rage. “This is a conspiracy against my life, Mr. Prescott. I will go off at once and swear an information against you.” “Against me, Mr. Barton? you are mad. If I am conspiring at all it is in your favour. I hear a rumour and I mention it to you. I put a hypothetical case for your opinion.” “And you have it in your power to prevent this information being known?” “Yes, Mr. Barton, this is quite between ourselves; but there is a man leaning against the doorway opposite—yes, there he is,” and Prescott looked out of the window. “Now, if I wink at that man as I go out, that man will go straight to his home and will keep his mouth shut for the rest of his life; and he is the only man besides myself who knows of that little affair. If I don’t wink at him, I really can’t answer which way he will walk.”