"You mean—the circus rider?" "Certainly; your young cousin." "Hush!" said Hugo, angerly. "How dare you call him my cousin?" "Because he was your cousin," said the other firmly. "He stood between you and the property, and that is why you wanted me to put him out of the way." "I won't discuss that matter just now—I will simply ask you if you mean to assure me that the boy is dead?" "Yes." "You can swear it?" "Of course. He is at the bottom of a well in a distant Western State, unless he has been fished out." "He must have been very careless to fall in, whoever he was," said Hugo. "Very much so!" said Fitzgerald mockingly. "Well," said Hugo, philosophically, "he'd probably have met with a violent death anyway. This bareback riding is dangerous." "So it is; I saw him thrown from his horse in the ring at Crampton." "Indeed! Was he hurt?" "Sprained his ankle—that was all. He had to retire from the ring for the season. Then I offered him an engagement to travel with me to the West." "Indeed! Very kind of you!" said Hugo, indifferently. "Well, shall we go back to the house?" "Go back to the house!" repeated Fitzgerald, surprised. "Why, we haven't transacted our business." "Our business! Why, what business have I with you?" "I want pay for my work," answered Fitzgerald sharply. "Your work! Really, I don't remember to have employed you," said Hugo with languid indifference. "Can he mean to go back on his promise?" Fitzgerald asked himself uncomfortably. "You promised me $2000 down when I had done this job, and $3000 more when you came into your inheritance," he said quickly. Hugo, who was a man of consummate meanness, could not bear to part with so large a sum of money. Now that he had obtained all that he desired, and believed that his young cousin, the only possible obstacle between him and his uncle's wealth, was out of the way, he thought he might safely repudiate the bargain, and send off Fitzgerald penniless, or at any rate with a trifle. "You seem to be dreaming, or romancing," he said coldly. "Do you mean to say you did not promise me the money?" he demanded passionately. "I never did; of course not. I have never had any dealings with you." Fitzgerald clenched his hand together until the nails entered the flesh. Had he committed a detestable crime for nothing? "Look here, Mr. Hugo Richmond," he said, passionately. "This won't do! You are not going to use me and then throw me off. Pay me this money, or I will report you." "You had better reflect before you try it," said Hugo, composedly. "I shall accuse you of black-mail, and your charge would never be believed." "Wouldn't it? You may find yourself bitterly mistaken." "You must remember that in charging yourself with murder you will run the risk of the hangman's rope. Even if the charge could do me any harm you would probably lose your own life."