"I couldn't help it," said Garvington crossly. "I must look after myself." Silver's smooth, foxy face became livid, and he could scarcely speak. When he did, it was with a sickly smile. "Whatever are you talking about, my lord?" "Oh, you know, d---- you! I did give you that revolver, you know." "The revolver?" Silver stared. "Yes, why should I deny it? I suppose you have come to get it back?" "I have come to get it, Mr. Silver," put in Lambert politely. "Hand it over to me, if you please." "If you like. It certainly has your name on the handle," said the secretary so quietly that the other man was puzzled. Silver did not seem to be so uncomfortable as he might have been. "The revolver was one of a pair which I had especially made when I went to Africa some years ago," explained Lambert elaborately, and determined to make his listener understand the situation thoroughly. "On my return I made them a present to my cousin. I understand, Mr. Silver, that Lord Garvington lent you one--" "And kept the other," interrupted the man sharply. "That is true. I was afraid of burglars, since Lord Garvington was always talking about them, so I asked him to lend me a weapon to defend myself with." "And you used it to shoot Pine," snapped Garvington, anxious to end his suspense and get the interview over as speedily as possible. Silver rose from his seat in an automatic manner, and turned delicately pale. "Are you mad?" he gasped, looking from one man to the other. "It's all very well you talking," whimpered Garvington with a shiver; "but Pine was shot with that revolver I lent you." "It's a lie!" "Oh, I knew you'd say that," complained Garvington, shivering again. "But I warned you that there might be trouble, since you carried that letter for me, so that it might fall by chance into Pine's hands." "Augh!" groaned Silver, sinking back into his chair and passing his tongue over a pair of dry, gray lips. "Hold your tongue, my lord." "What's the use? He knows," and Garvington jerked his head in the direction of his cousin. "The game's up, Silver--the game's up!" "Oh!" Silver's eyes flashed, and he looked like a rat at bay. "So you intend to save yourself at my expense. But it won't do, my lord. You wrote that letter, if I carried it to the camp." "I have admitted to my sister and to Lambert, here, that I wrote the letter, Silver. I had to, or get into trouble with the police, since neither of them will listen to reason. But you suggested the plan to get Pine winged so that he might be ill in my house, and then we could both get money out of him. You invented the plot, and I only wrote the letter." "Augh! Augh!" gulped Silver, unable to speak plainly. "Do you confess the truth of Lord Garvington's statement?" inquired Lambert suavely, and fixing a merciless eye on the trapped fox. "No--that is--yes. He swings on the same hook as I do." "Indeed. Then Lord Garvington was aware that you shot Pine?"