Stoner knew that his sagacious friend was right, and he was prepared to abide by his counsel--as long as Myler was at his elbow. But when he had got away from him, his mind began to wobble. Five hundred pounds!--what was it in comparison with what he might get by a little skilful playing of his cards? He knew Mallalieu and he knew Cotherstone--knew much more about both of them than they had any idea of. He knew that they were rich men--very rich men. They had been making money for years, and of late certain highly successful and profitable contracts had increased their wealth in a surprising fashion. Everything had gone right with them--every contract they had taken up had turned out a gold mine. Five thousand pounds would be nothing to them singly--much less jointly. In Stoner's opinion, he had only to ask in order to have. He firmly believed that they would pay--pay at once, in good cash. And if they did--well, he would take good care that no evil chances came to him! If he laid hands on five thousand pounds, he would be out of Highmarket within five hours, and half-way across the Atlantic within five days. No--Dave Myler was a good sort--one of the best--but he was a bit straight-laced, and old-fashioned--especially since he had taken a wife--and after all, every man has a right to do his best for himself. And so, when Stoner came face to face with Mallalieu, on the lonely moor between High Gill and Highmarket, his mind was already made up to blackmail. The place in which they met was an appropriate one--for Stoner's purpose. He had crossed the high ground between the railway and the little moorland town by no definite track, but had come in a bee-line across ling and bracken and heather. All around stretched miles upon miles of solitude--nothing but the undulating moors, broken up by great masses of limestone rock and occasional clumps and coverts of fir and pine; nothing but the blue line of the hills in the west; nothing but the grey northern skies overhead; nothing but the cry of the curlew and the bleating of the mountain sheep. It was in the midst of this that he met his senior employer--at the corner of a thin spinney which ran along the edge of a disused quarry. Mallalieu, as Stoner well knew, was a great man for walking on these moors, and he always walked alone. He took these walks to keep his flesh down; here he came, swinging his heavy oak walking-stick, intent on his own thoughts, and he and Stoner, neither hearing the other's footfall on the soft turf, almost ran into each other. Stoner, taken aback, flushed with the sudden surprise. But Mallalieu, busied with his own reflections, had no thought of Stoner in his mind, and consequently showed no surprise at meeting him. He made a point of cultivating friendly relations with all who worked for him, and he grinned pleasantly at his clerk.