"If Ben did know all, it would be far too good a lever not to make use of against me, and he is not the man to hesitate to try it," Mr. Field decided. "If he hasn’t played his trump-card by this time, I don’t think he’s got one in his hand at all. It’s my belief that there is more bluff than anything else in what he says, and if so, why should I knuckle under to him every time he comes sponging on me as he does. I have been far too weak with him in the past. I shall see what effect a little firmness will have upon my gentleman. I don’t so much mind having to pay for what he knows, but I do draw the line at giving anything for threats in the dark." *CHAPTER XIV* *Pin-pricks and Pellets* This change of front did not at all suit Benjamin Green, when he at last realized that the worm had turned, and that his visits to Farncourt did not produce the same golden results which they had been wont to do in the past. Afraid to press the blackmailing process too far in case he should find he was involved in unsuspected difficulties himself, his thoughts reverted to what remained of his father’s property, and his ingenious mind set about devising means by which Mr. Field’s ambition could be turned to account. "There’s a good piece of the land still left," he said, as he contemplated the scene, "and it will be many a long day till the waves claim it as they did the old house. I’ll see what can be done in the meanwhile to squeeze out of the squire that same hundred pounds which he promised my father before he died." For a week or two after Timothy’s cottage had disappeared it had been unmitigated satisfaction to Mr. Field to gaze upon the view from his dining-room windows. True, a portion of the coveted ground could still be discerned through the gap in the little wood which intervened between Farncourt and the shore--a gap which no amount of planting would fill up for many years to come--but at least the human habitation was away which had been such a vexation to the purse-proud man. There was nothing now to rouse his ire as he looked out upon the prospect before him. The sky and sea were certainly beyond his reach, but on earth, only the possessions of the master of Farncourt could be seen. His feelings of irritation and disgust therefore can be imagined when, one fine morning, on going as usual to the casement to enjoy the view, he became aware of a tall flagstaff planted on the edge of the cliff, just in the centre of the vista which he desired so much to ignore. It literally glittered in the glory of the whitest of white paint, and to add to its conspicuousness a brilliant scarlet flag fluttered tauntingly from it in the breeze.