"Fool! coward!" exclaimed Victor Harrington, with mingled scorn and anger. "And you have abandoned your work; you have come here to waste your time, when you should seem most active in the search--most eager to find the missing man. Reginald Eversleigh, from first to last you have trifled with me. You are a villain; but you are a hypocrite. You would have the reward of guilt, and yet wear the guise of innocence, even before me; as if it were possible to deceive one who has read you through and through. I am tired of this trifling; I am weary of this pretended innocence; and to-night I ask you, for the last time, to choose the path which you mean to tread; and, once chosen, to tread it with a firm step, prepared to meet danger--to confront destiny. This very hour, this very moment, I call upon you to make your decision; and it shall be a final decision. Will you grovel on in poverty--the worst of all poverty, the gentleman's pittance? or will you make yourself possessor of the wealth which your uncle Oswald bequeathed to others? Look me in the face, Reginald, as you are a man, and answer me, Which is it to be--wealth or poverty?" "It is too late to answer poverty," replied the baronet, in a gloomy and sullen tone. "You cannot bring my uncle back to life; you cannot undo your work." "I do not pretend to bring the dead to life. I am not talking of the past--I am talking of the future." "Suppose I say that I will endure poverty rather than plunge deeper into the pit you have dug--what then?" "In that case, I will bid you good speed, and leave you to your poverty and--a clear conscience," answered Victor, coolly. "I am a poor man myself; but I like my friends to be rich. If you do not care to grasp the wealth which might be yours, neither do I care to preserve our acquaintance. So we have merely to bid each other good night, and part company." There was a pause--Reginald Eversleigh sat with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on the fire. Victor watched him with a sinister smile upon his face. "And if I choose to go on," said Reginald, at last; "if I choose to tread farther on the dark road which I have trodden so long--what then? Can you ensure me success, Victor Carrington?" "I can," replied the Frenchman. "Then I will go on. Yes; I will be your slave, your tool, your willing coadjutor in crime and treachery; anything to obtain at last the heritage out of which I have been cheated." "Enough! You have made your decision. Henceforward let me hear no repinings, no hypocritical regrets. And now, order your horse, gallop back as fast as you can to the neighbourhood of Hallgrove, and show yourself foremost amongst those who seek for Lionel Dale." "Yes, yes; I will obey you--I will shake off this miserable hesitation. I will make my nature iron, as you have made yours." Sir Reginald rang, and ordered his horse to be brought round to the door of the inn.