Gammon paused, and abruptly added--"I have but to lift my finger, and this splendid dressing-gown of yours, my poor Titmouse, is exchanged for a prison-jacket"---- "Oh Lord! oh Lord! oh Lord!" suddenly exclaimed Titmouse, with a shudder--"I wish I were dead and forgotten! oh Lord! what shall I do? 'Pon my _soul_"--he struck his forehead with some violence--"I'm going mad"---- "Consider, Mr. Titmouse, calmly, how reasonable and moderate is my offer"--proceeded Gammon; who now and then, however, experienced changes of color, on the sudden recurrence of a sense of his last misfortune. "Here's Lady Cicely to have £3,000 a-year," passionately interposed Titmouse. "Not till after your death, my dear sir"---- "Then she shall have it directly; for curse me if I don't kill myself!"---- "Then she would never have a farthing--for I should instantly produce the real heir"---- "Yah!" exclaimed Titmouse, uttering a sound like the sharp, furious bark of a cur, foiled at all points. He threw himself on the sofa, and folded his arms on his breast, compressing them, as it were, with convulsive vehemence. "Do not excite yourself, Mr. Titmouse--you are still one of the most fortunate men upon earth, to have fallen into hands like mine, I can assure you! You will still enjoy a truly splendid income--little short of nine thousand a-year--for I will undertake to raise the Yatton rental, within a few short months, to twelve or thirteen thousand a-year, as I have often told you--I have explained to you over and over again, how absurdly under their value they were let in the time of"---- "And you've perhaps forgotten that I've borrowed nearly fifty thousand pounds--that costs nothing, I suppose!" "Well, certainly, you must be a little careful for a year or two, that's all"---- "Demme, sir!--I must give up my _yacht_!" exclaimed Titmouse, desperately, snapping his thumb and finger vehemently at Gammon. "Yes--or Yatton," replied Gammon, sternly. "After all--what more shall I be than a sort of steward of yours?" "I don't want one," interrupted Titmouse; and, starting from the sofa, walked to the window, where he stood with his back turned towards Gammon, and crying! Gammon eyed him for several minutes in silence; and then slowly approaching him, tapped him briskly on the shoulder. Titmouse started. "Come, sir--you have now, I hope, relieved your small feelings, and must attend to me--and be prompt, too, sir! The time for trifling, and playing the baby, or the girl, is gone. Hark you, sir!--yield me my terms, or this very day I spring a mine under your feet, you little villain! that shall blow you into ten thousand atoms, and scatter them wider than ever you scattered just now those bits of worthless paper! Do you hear that?" As he said this, he took hold of the collar of Titmouse's dressing-gown, which Titmouse felt to be grasped by a hand, tightening momentarily. Titmouse made no reply; but gazed at Gammon with a countenance full of distress and terror.