"I have not forgotten," was the response. "Very good. Then I should advise you, if you care for your own safety and your cousin's welfare, to say nothing of the family honor, to advise her to come to terms--my terms. You have heard them, no doubt!" "I have heard about them," said the boy. "I have--" he stopped a second to cough, but his hold on Jasper's sleeve did not relax even during the paroxysm--"I have heard them. I know what a devil you are, Jasper Adelstone. I have long guessed it, but I know now." Jasper laughed. "Thanks! and now you have discharged yourself of your venom, my young asp, we will go down. Take your hand from my coat, if you please." "Wait," said the boy, and his voice seemed to have grown stronger; "I have not done yet. I have followed you here, Jasper, for a purpose; I have come to ask you for--for that paper." Calmly and dispassionately the request was made, as if it were the most natural in the world. To say that Jasper was astonished does not describe his feelings. "You--must be mad!" he exclaimed; then he laughed. "You will not give it to me?" was the quiet demand. Jasper laughed again. "Do you know what that precious piece of hand-writing of yours cost me, my dear Frank? One hundred and fifty pounds that I shall never see again, unless your friend Holiday takes to paying his debts." "I see," said the boy, slowly, and his voice grew reflective; "you bought it from him? No!"--with a sudden flash of inspiration--"he was a gentleman! By hook or by crook you stole it!" Jasper nodded. "Never mind how I got it, I have got it," and he struck his breast softly. The sunken eyes followed the gesture, as if they would penetrate to the hidden paper itself. "I know," he said, in a low voice; "I saw you put it there." "And you will not see it again until I hand it to Stella, to-morrow, or give it to the magistrate before whom you will stand, my dear lad, charged with forgery." The word had scarcely left his lips, but the boy was upon him, his long, thin arms--endued for a moment, as it seemed, with a madman's strength--encircling Jasper's neck. Not a word was uttered, but the thin, white face, lit up by the gleaming eyes, spoke volumes. Jasper was staggered, not frightened, but simply surprised and infuriated. "You--you young fool!" he hissed. "Take your arms off me." "Give it to me! Give it to me!" panted the boy, in a frenzy. "Give it to me! The paper! The paper!" and his clutch tightened like a band of steel. Jasper smothered an oath. The path was narrow; unconsciously, or intentionally, the frenzied lad had edged them both, while talking, to the brink, and Jasper was standing with his back to it. In an instant he realized his danger; yes, danger! For, absurd as it seemed, the grasp of the weak, dying boy could not be shaken off; there was danger. "Frank!" he cried. "Give it me!" broke in the wild cry, and he pressed closer.