“He shall be here in a--in five minutes,” he said, after two or three efforts to clear his throat. “I’ll send him, never fear--I think I said five minutes--that will give you time to prepare yourself. Remember, no more tears. All will yet go well. I have said it.” He hurried from the room as he spoke, and though he knew that Mark and Hal were together, he contrived to keep his word. And it was so far well that he did, inasmuch that Mark, after a somewhat lengthened interview with his sister, immediately sought out Hal in the village to which he had retired, and remained with him until he took the train for London, and then he parted with him on the most friendly terms. During Mark’s absence, Nathan Gomer presented himself before old Wilton, who received him with the same eagerness and respect he had always previously displayed. Colonel Mires, who was having a _tete-a-tete_ with his host, took the opportunity which the coming of Nathan Gomer afforded him to retire, to brood over dark projects for the future. Nathan looked after him. “Don’t like him,” he muttered; “mischief in him. He’s got some cut-throat purpose haunting him, and he will try to execute it, too. I say, he will make the attempt. Must look after him.” “What do you say?” asked Wilton, trying to catch his words. “Nothing for your ear,” replied Nathan, a little tartly. “I have a bad habit of talking while I am thinking--foolish that; I may venture to say that it is a very foolish habit.” Wilton responded; and then Nathan Gomer, drawing a chair near to him, sat down and at once proceeded to business. He circumstantially and clearly related all the incidents which had transpired in connection with Josh Maybee, even to the trick which he had himself played Chewkle, and he assured him that the missing documents were all secured and in safe possession. Arrangements also, he informed him, had been completed with Maybee, who had a rightful share in the property. The only thing he waited for, was to know what course was to be pursued with respect to Grahame, who was now entirely in their power. Wilton’s features assumed a hard, grim expression. His eyeballs contracted into small glittering circles. He fastened them upon the brilliant orbs of Nathan Gomer. “No mercy,” he growled through his clenched teeth, “he must be crushed.” “A-hem!” coughed Nathan Gomer; “revengeful, eh, Wilton?”