“A hundred pounds! I should think so! If you was to ask me, I should consider it cheap at a thousand, and that’s the figure I mean to ask for it. And if yer takes my advice, the advice of a man as don’t wish you no particular harm, you’ll hand over that thousand pounds, and say no more about it. You can rely on me. I can keep my mouth shut. I’m sick o’ England, and I’m ready to go wherever you like and keep there.” Bartley Bradstone remained silent for a moment or two, then he said, huskily: “Supposing your information were worth the money, my man, I could not give it you.” Seth stared and laughed incredulously. Bartley Bradstone bit his lip. “What I tell you is true. I can no more give you a thousand pounds than you can give it to me.” “Now, guv’nor, come, no gammon,” said Seth, impatiently. “If you’ve got any sense, any gratitood, you’d fork out the money and say ‘thank you.’ What’s a thousand pounds when a man’s life’s at stake!” Bartley Bradstone shuddered and sank into a chair. “I tell you, I can’t do it,” he said. Seth looked round at the handsomely furnished room, at the costly hangings, the rows on rows of elegantly bound books and silver knick-knacks on the tables, the carved oak and beveled mirrors, and laughed again. “It won’t do, guv’nor,” he said. “Look ’ee here,” and he leaned forward and shook his fist in Bartley Bradstone’s face, “I’m not to be trifled with. Give the money I asks yer for, or I go and give the police the information I have offered you. They’ll pay for it, and be only too glad.” Bartley Bradstone rose and nerved himself for the struggle. “What information can you give them? You say you know something of this murder. How much?” “Everything,” retorted Seth. “Why, guv’nor----” He bent forward and whispered a few words in Bartley Bradstone’s ear. Bartley Bradstone shrank back, and great beads of perspiration stood out upon his forehead; but then, bracing himself together, he laughed. “Oh! that is it, is it?” he said. “My friend, you know too much. You threaten me! You seem to have forgotten that a man who knows so much, very probably knows more than is safe for himself.” Seth looked at him with knitted brows. “What d’yer mean?” he said. Bartley Bradstone thrust his hands into his pockets.