“Your intelligence is, indeed; important,” murmured Grahame with colourless features; “you swear that he is living; and can easily be produced?” “I do.” “I confess, if you are able to keep him out of the way, you are entitled to a handsome sum from me.” “I thought you’d hear reason.” “A-hem--when--when you say that you--that you will keep the man _dark_--those were yonr words, I think?” Chewkle nodded. “I feel I don’t precisely understand yonr meaning. Am I to be assured that you will--will so arrange matters that--this man--this Maybee--can _never_ appear again, either to disturb my peace, or--or to substantiate Wilton’s claim to the estate?” Mr. Grahame looked into Chewkle’s eyes with a strange meaning; Chewkle read the expression correctly instantly, and he instinctively shuddered and looked over his shoulder. Then he whispered-- “Murder is it?” Mr. Grahame threw his eyes slowly round the library, and then fastened them again on Chewkle’s inflamed orbs-- “It would be the source of unceasing torture to me to know the evidence of which you speak to be living, and that at any moment it might be forthcoming.” “That’s true,” muttered Chewkle. “It would be to my interest to pay handsomely--very handsomely, if I knew the evidence was”---- “Destroyed!” “Exactly, Chewkle, my good fellow.” “I wants money.” “Pressingly?” “Werry, werry pressingly.” “How much at this moment?” “Well, my position is jes’ this; I was a’pointed secretary and treasurer to a benefit society, and a little while ago they wanted money in a hurry, and I couldn’t let ’em ’ave it.” “Embezzled their funds, I presume.” “No, you speaks plain but not correctly. I had _borrowed_ ’em, and it was inconvenient to return ’em jest when they wanted ’em. They was rash, and wouldn’t listen to explanations, and set the police on me. I have been hiding and seeking, and starving ever since. But I can square it by paying the sum they lent me.” “Or you lent yourself. What is its amount?” “Just forty pun’--that’s all.” “You want that sum now?” “Or Josh Maybee must turn up to-morrow, in Wilton’s favour; the bobbies are too close upon my heels to waste any time in parleying about it.” Mr. Grahame drew forth his pocket-book, and from it selected a fifty pound note. He opened it to the greedy eyes of Chewkle, but he retained it while he spoke. “I will give you this note now,” he said, slowly, and in a marked manner, “to relieve you from your present difficulties. But I will give you twice ten times that amount when I know that the evidence we have spoken of cannot at any time--mind! at any time--be produced.” “Give me the note,” said Chewkle. “You shall be made easy in a few days, and I shall be as--as jolly as a sandboy again.” Mr. Grahame gave him the note. He took it, and, after carefully reading it, put it away into his pocket.