"And how does that concern me?" asked Charnock. "The consequences concern you. It will be known, for instance, that Mrs. Warriner has a real live husband." "I see," said Charnock. He looked at Wilbraham with a curious interest. Then he spoke to Miranda, but without looking towards her at all. "It is blackmail, I suppose?" "Yes," said she. "It is a claim for common gratitude," Wilbraham corrected. "What's the price of the claim?" asked Charnock, pleasantly. "One thousand jimmies per annum is the minimum figure," replied the Major, whose jauntiness was quite restored. Since his affairs progressed so swimmingly towards prosperity, he was prepared to forgive, and, as soon as his looking-glass allowed, to forget that hasty slash of the riding-whip. "And up till now how much have you received?" continued Charnock, in the same pleasant business-like voice. "A beggarly two hundred and fifty." "Then if for form's sake you will give Mrs. Warriner an I O U for that amount she can wish you good-day." Wilbraham smiled gaily, and with some condescension. "Is it bluff?" said he. "Where's the use? My dear Charnock, I have a full hand, and--" "My dear Major," replied Charnock, "I hold a royal straight flush." He produced a telegram from his pocket. The Major eyed it with suspicion. "Is that the telegram I brought into your room this morning?" "It is. To keep up your metaphor, you dealt me my hand. Do you call it?" The Major cocked his head. Charnock's ease was so very natural; his good temper so complete. Still, he might be merely playing the game; besides, one never knew what there might be in a telegram. "I do," he said. "Very well," said Charnock. He sat down upon a chair, and spread out the telegram on his knee. "You talk very airily, Major, of dropping in upon Scotland Yard. Would it surprise you to hear that Scotland Yard would welcome you with open arms, for other reasons than a mere gratitude for your information?" The Major was more than disappointed; he confessed to being grieved. "I expected something more subtle, I did indeed. Really, my dear Charnock, you are a novice! Sir, a novice." "But a novice with a royal straight flush. Major, why have you been living for four months at an out-of-the-way and unentertaining place like Tarifa?" "I will answer you with frankness. I wished to keep my fingers upon Mrs. Warriner. An occasional tweak of the fingers, dear friend, is very useful if only to show that you are awake." "Was that the only reason?" "No," interposed Miranda. "He wanted quiet; he is translating Horace." The Major actually blushed, for the first and last time that morning. Accusations, even proofs of infamy, he could accept without a stir of the muscles; but to be charged, perhaps to be ridiculed, with his one honourable project--the Major was hurt. "A little mean!" he said gently to Miranda. "You will agree with me when you think it over. A little mean!"