“I had hoped the truth would never come out,” continued the millionaire. “I accidentally discovered a year ago who Mother Flintstone was, but I said nothing. I would have given her thousands to have thrown herself from the bridge or to have left the city, but I dared not approach her. And so she left a confession behind; she has left the secret to a scoundrel like this George Richmond. Why, this man has more names than one.” “A good many people have nowadays,” answered Claude. “Well, he must be silenced somehow.” “With money?” “Not if I can help it. I would like to know what sort of communication Mother Flintstone left.” “It seems to me the best way to deal with the secret holder is to come to his terms,” suggested Claude. “And be bled every now and then? I’ll defy him first!” “Come, come. You can’t afford to do that. Think of our station in society. Sister is on the eve of marriage, and mother’s health is not what it used to be. We must come to his terms to save the house of Lamont.” The millionaire began to pace the floor like a wild beast. “What will you take to strangle the scoundrel, Claude?” he suddenly exclaimed, halting before his son. “You have every opportunity. Name your price.” “You don’t really mean that?” cried the young man. “I do, every word of it. What will you take to silence this man forever?” “Two hundred thousand cash in hand.” “Done!” exclaimed the millionaire. “That’s a bargain!” CHAPTER XXVI. THE DARK JAILERESS AGAIN. It was a cool compact. Perry Lamont made answer to his son with all the cleverness of a practiced villain, and Claude accepted it in the same manner. “I want this man silenced,” continued the millionaire. “He must not possess this secret.” “Just as you say,” said Claude, picking up a cigar and coolly lighting it. “He must not, I say. You’ve agreed to finish him, and when you’ve done so the money is yours.” “Couldn’t you give me a little check now?” asked the son. Perry Lamont took a check book from the desk and opened it as he looked at his son. “How much?” “Say five thousand. I may need the money in the venture, you know.” Without more ado the nabob drew up a check for five thousand dollars, and passed it across the table. “This business must not lag,” said he. “While that man lives he is dangerous.” Five minutes later the young man stood on a corner in another part of the city. He was smoking complacently and apparently waiting for some one, for he watched the door of a well-known resort. Presently the door opened and George Richmond came out. Claude joined him at once, and the pair walked away together. In a little while they seated themselves at a table in a room not far from the corner, and Claude threw the check upon the table. “Jehu! did you make it?” cried Richmond. “I did.” “How?” The young scamp smiled. “It’s blood money,” he said. “Blood money?” exclaimed Richmond. “In Heaven’s name, whose blood does it mean?” “Yours!” “Come, what joke is this?”