"Will you drop all such honeyed phrases, Peter Trevisa," I said angrily. "I know you lent money to my father on Trevanion. I know I have been a fool since I came into possession. Last night I lost my head. Well, Prideaux shall be paid, and you will take the rest. I quite expect this, and am prepared for it." "Prideaux has been paid," laughed the old man. "In cash?" "Aye, that he has." "Who paid him?" "I did." "Oh, I see. You wanted the bone all to yourself, did you," I cried angrily. "Well, some dogs are like that. But it makes no difference to me. Do your worst." "You remember this," he said, holding up the piece of paper I had given to Prideaux the night before. "I was mad when I wrote it," I replied, "but I remember it well. How did it come into your hands?" "Prideaux has very fine notions about honour," remarked old Peter. "He did not like taking advantage of it, and yet he knew that you as a Trevanion would insist on his doing so." "Well?" "Well, Roger lad, seeing I have the Trevanion deeds, I thought I might as well have this too. So I offered him money down, and he was pleased to arrange the matter that way. He has made the thing over to me." "Let's see it--his writing ought to be on it to that effect." "It is; aye, it is." "Then let me look at it." "No, Roger. This paper is very precious to me. I dare not let you have it. You might destroy it then." "Peter Trevisa," I cried, "did ever a Trevanion do a trick like that?" "No, but you are in a tight corner, and----" "Listen, you chattering old fool," I cried angrily. "If I wished, I could squeeze the life out of the bodies of both of you and take the paper from you before any one could come to your aid. But that's not my way; give it me." "I'll trust you, Roger; here it is." I looked at the paper. I saw my own promise and signature; underneath it was stated that the money had been paid by Peter Trevisa, and signed "Edward Prideaux." I flung it at him. "There," I said, "you've forged the last link in your chain now. I am quite prepared for what I have no doubt you will do. Trevanion is yours. Well, have it; may it bring you as much joy as it has brought me." "You misjudge me," cried old Peter. "You misjudge both me and my son. True, Trevanion would be a fine place for my lad, but then I should not like to drive you away from your old home. All the Trevanions would turn in their graves if any one else lived there. I want to be your friend. I desire to help you on to your feet again." "Wind!" I cried. "Trust you to help any man!" "Listen to what my father has to say," cried young Peter. "You will see that we both wish to be friendly."