"What do you mean? What do you mean?" the little dark man exclaimed, with an affectation of rising wrath: "Look at this—I tell you, look at this!" He drew from his pocket one of the photographs which had been taken on board the steamer, and smacked it with the back of his hand. "Do you see that?—the scandal of the whole voyage! My wife compromised—the whole ship talking—you think you are to get off for nothing? No! No! you do not! The only punishment that can reach you is the punishment of the pocket—you must pay." "Oh, don’t make a fool of yourself!" said Vincent, with angry contempt. "I’ve met members of your profession before. But this is too thin." "Oh—too thin? You shall find out!" the other said, vindictively—and yet the black and beady eyes behind the pince-nez were impassive and watchful. "There, on the other side of my card, is my address. You can think over it. Perhaps I shall see you to-morrow. If I do not—if you do not come there to give the compensation I demand, I will make this country too hot to hold you—yes, very much too hot, as you shall discover. I will make you sorry—I will make you sorry—you shall see——" He went on vapouring in this fashion for some little time longer, affecting all the while to become more and more indignant; but at length Vincent, growing tired, walked to the door and opened it. "This is the way out," he said curtly. Mr. de Lara took the hint with a dignified equanimity. "You have my address," he said, as he passed into the corridor; "I do not wish to do anything disagreeable—unless I am compelled. You will think over it; and I shall see you to-morrow, I hope. I wish to be friendly—it will be for your interest, too. Good night!" Vincent shut the door and went and sate down, the better to consider. Not that he was in the least perturbed by this man’s ridiculous threats; what puzzled him—and frightened him almost—was the possible connection of the charming and fascinating Mrs. de Lara with this barefaced attempt at blackmail. But no; he could not, he would not, believe it! He recalled her pretty ways, her frankness, her engaging manner, her good humour, her clever, wayward talk, her kindness towards himself; and he could not bring himself to think that all the time she had been planning a paltry and despicable conspiracy to extort money, or even that she would lend herself to such a scheme at the instigation of her scapegrace husband. However, his speculations on these points were now interrupted by the arrival of the dinner-hour; and he went below to the table d’hôte.