Chewkle glared at him with red tiger-like eyes. He perused the features of Mr. Grahame, as though to read in their expression the line of conduct he intended to adopt with him. “Lookee here,” he said, his beetling brows descending low enough to hide the upper lids of his glittering eyes; “there can’t be no mistake between us. That dockyment----” “What document?” “Oh! forgotten it so soon? That dockyment, bearing old Wilton’s name, which you forged in my presence; that dockyment which you think to be lost, but which isn’t, because I knows where it is, and can have it brought forard at a minute’s notice; that dockyment which you would swear, I dessay, that you’d never seen before, only you forget that you made a davy, when it went to be registered, that the signature was genuine, and was done in your presence--and in _mine_; that dockyment which, a few years ago, would a’ hanged you at Newgate, and which now, if I likes--mind, if _I likes_--will drag you before a judge and jury, and turn you, mighty proud as you are, into a con-vick----” “Silence, wretch! silence, or I’ll strangle you!” cried Mr. Grahame, springing upon him in a paroxysm of rage and fright--Chewkle’s volubility, urged by his irritation, having resisted all extravagant signs and motions to check it. He struck down Mr. Grahame’s vulture-like hands, and said-- “No, you don’t; and, mark me; take my advice, and be quiet, or I’ll make your own ’ouse too ’ot to ’old you!” “What do you want with me?” growled Mr. Grahame, in anxious fear. Seeing that it would be useless to expostulate with, or threaten, such a determined ruffian, he formed a hasty resolve to give him the money, or some portion off it, that he expected he would require, and get rid of him. “I wants this of you--money?” “I expected as much.” “Ah! but not without earning it. I’ve got something to tell as will startle you. Listen, and see whether it won’t be worth while to open your purse to me, Old Wilton wants one link of evidence to make him master of all that property you have been trying to get--don’t he?” “He does.” replied Mr. Grahame, with a half-presentiment of what was to follow. “Well, that link I’ve found.” “You?” “I! I know where to clap my hand on it, and bring it to light; or--if liberally renoomerated--to keep it dark.” “Is this truth?” cried Mr. Grahame, petrified. Mr. Chewkle immediately took a terrific oath to confirm its assertion. “The link’s a man,” he added; “and his name is Josh Maybee, eh?” “The same--the same--where is he?” “Ah; that’s jest what I shall keep for the present to myself. I don’t mind telling you that he does not know his own vally; and that I does; and I means to make a trifle by him; either out of you or Mr. Wilton; for if you don’t think it worth while to pay to keep the man dark; Mr. Wilton will; I daresay; think very little of a hundred or two to have him turn up.”