Marston had controlled himself with difficulty for some time, but when, in stinging tones of contempt, Gurth offered him money—offered to buy Ruth of him, as it were—his calmness forsook him. With a flushed face and flashing eyes he sprang forward and seized Gurth by the shoulders. ‘You cur!’ he exclaimed, passionately. ‘Do you think to buy me with your dirty money?—_your_ money!—bah, with the money that you have got by fraud—for all I know, by murder!’ It was a shot at random, but it went home. Gurth, white as a ghost, shook himself free from Marston’s clutch. ‘What do you mean?’ he exclaimed. ‘How dare you say such things?’ ‘Look at your white face in the glass,’ cried Marston, with an exulting cry. ‘I’ve unmasked you at last, then. Ah, my fine fellow, I fancy I know the weak spot now. You’ll sweep me out of your path, will you? We’ll see. Now, listen to this, Mr. Gurth Egerton. The first time you cross the Adrians’ threshold you seal your own fate. I’ll risk what will happen, and I’ll risk proving my words, but I’ll publicly denounce you as the murderer of Ralph Egerton!’ ‘You fool!’ gasped Egerton, in a husky voice. ‘You know it isn’t true. You know he was killed in a drunken row. You were there. Besides, his death was duly certified——’ ‘By Birnie!’ answered Marston. ‘A pretty certificate!’ ‘Good enough, at any rate, to silence such an accusation as you make,’ answered Gurth, more calmly. He was beginning to recover his composure. He was shrewd enough to see that there was nothing in Marston’s threat after all, and that he dare hardly use such a weapon lest he should injure himself. A moment’s reflection showed Marston that the threat was an empty one. He would try another arrow in the dark. ‘You are prepared to meet that accusation, are you?’ he said, speaking slowly and deliberately, and watching the effect of his words. ‘Very well, then, to make sure I’ll back it with another. Let me find you at Adrians’—let me hear that you have shown your false face there again, or spoken to Ruth one single word wherever you may chance to meet her—and I’ll sweep the fortune you have done so much to gain from your clutch at a blow.’ This time Gurth laughed bravely. He began to have an idea that Marston was merely shooting at random in the hope of hitting once. ‘What will you do?’ he asked. ‘Charge me with attempted regicide, or with plotting the destruction of the British Museum?’ ‘I shall charge you with nothing,’ answered Marston, quietly. ‘I shall set up another claimant to the property.’ Without stopping to explain—without waiting to watch the effect on Gurth—Marston turned on his heel, and went out of the door. He had played a card at hazard. He had no real idea that he could do what he said, but he knew that Gurth was concealing something—that there was something in the background which Gurth feared being known.