He was not repenting his evil deeds yet; they were only revenging themselves on him. He was only just beginning to find out that a man can’t put his sins behind his back, be good and live happy ever after, just when he takes it into his head. He had thought in winning Ruth’s love once more he was winning happiness, and the greatest misery he had ever known in his life had come upon him now he was her affianced husband. The striking of the clock upon his mantelpiece broke in upon his reverie, _One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight!_ The hour had come! He rose to his feet and listened for the sounds in the street. The clock ticked away the seconds and still no Preene. Five minutes past! ten minutes past! a quarter! At the quarter a sound. Footsteps coming hurriedly along the front path. He rushed into the hall and opened the door. A figure, big and burly, brushed past him, and dashed through the open door of the dining-room. Terrified he followed, and the figure faced round. It was not Preene. It was Heckett! His face was red and swollen with passion. The great veins gorged with blood stood out like ridges, the blood-shot eyes were set like those of a tiger that bounds upon its prey. Marston would have started back, but Heckett seized him by the arm, and, swinging him round into the centre of the room, Blood with his back against the door. ‘So, Mr. Ned Marston,’ he cried, with a fierce volley of oaths, ‘this is your game, is it? You want to get rid of me cus I knows too much, and you must set that sneaking hound of a Preene on to me, to funk me out of the blooming country. But I’m not to be caught so easy, you thundering varmint!’ ‘What do you mean?’ gasped Marston. ‘Mean, you sweep? Why, I mean what I say. Preene came to me a-telling me there was a warrant out, and you was wanted, and Turvey had split; and he gave me a hundred, and told me to get over the pond as quick as lighterin’. But I was fly, guv’nor—too fly for you. I waitched Preene come in here larst night, and I guessed you wasn’t up to no good. So you’re going to retire, are you? And you wanted to get me out o’ the way, for fear I should disturb you? Oh, you’re a artful cove, you are, Ned Marston.’ Marston made no answer. His white face betrayed him; he saw himself in the power of a master-ruffian. He knew that Heckett would never forgive the attempted treachery. ‘Now, look here, mate,’ roared Heckett. ‘I’m going to take Preene’s advice.’ Marston looked at him wonderingly. ‘Yes, I’m goin’ to obleege you; but as you sets such a vally on my room hinsted o’ my cumpeny, you must pay a fair price. Marston hesitated. ‘And if I give you what you ask,’ he said, ‘what guarantee have I that you won’t molest me again.’ ‘None,’ answered Heckett. ‘None, you double-faced cheat! You’ve started the rounding game, and it’s one as I can play at too. If you don’t pay me handsome, I’ll split on the whole d——d lot of you. Come!’