Bertie thought intently for a moment. If he gave up the letter, he would be powerless in the future to prove anything with regard to the blackmail. The fact that he had drawn a cheque for £10,000 to Bilton was in itself nothing to show that he had done so under threats, especially if, as it suddenly occurred to him, Bilton was, if not in league with Mrs. Emsworth, at any rate cognizant of her action. On the other hand, if he refused, he had to risk that letter of his being sent to Mr. Palmer. He had been unable to face that risk before, and it was as unfaceable now. But the idea that Bilton was concerned in this was interesting. It had been suggested by the slight over-emphasizing of the fact that he was busy, by the looking at his watch. That was, however vaguely, threatening; it implied time was short, or that he himself was concerned in Bertie's acceptation of the ultimatum. Bilton sat down again and tapped with his fingers on the table. 'Excuse me, Lord Keynes,' he said, 'but no purpose is served by our sitting here like this. You will, of course, please yourself in this matter. Here is the packet for you if you decide one way; there is the letter-box if you decide the other.' The speech was well-chosen, and left no room for doubt in Bertie's mind that the letter-box would be used. He took the desired document from his pocket. 'Here is the cheque,' he said, 'and here is the letter. The latter, you say, you are going to verify. I, on my side, I suppose, may verify what you give me.' Bilton appeared to consider this for a moment. 'There was nothing said about that,' he remarked, 'but I feel certain that the lady would be willing to let you receive proof of her honourable dealing with you.' 'Did you say honourable dealing?' asked Bertie in a tone which required no answer. Bilton opened the letter Bertie gave him, referred to a paper out of the alphabetical case, looked at the cheque, and handed him the packet. Bertie glanced at it, saw enough, and put it in his pocket. 'That's correct, then,' said Bilton. Bertie rose. 'Next time you see Mrs. Emsworth, pray congratulate her for me,' he said. 'She has missed her vocation by going on the stage.' 'I am inclined to disagree with you,' said Bilton. 'It has developed her sense of plot. Must you be going? Good-bye. I suppose you are off to America again in a month. You may meet her there.' 'That is not possible,' said Bertie. Bilton's smile which sped the parting guest did not at once fade when the guest had gone. It remained, a smile of amusement, on his face for a considerable time. 'God, what a fool!' he permitted himself to remark as he settled down to his work again. CHAPTER XIII