"I say, what is it to be?" cried the man fiercely. "No shilly-shally! Don't put me out, or I shall be more nasty than you like. There, there, don't let's quarrel, gentlemen," he cried, changing his tone. "We're all men of the world, and we've got to deal with an ugly difficulty. Let's settle it sensibly. I'm sorry for you, Stratton. It's disappointing for you to have a dead man come to life and claim his wife just as you are going to take the pretty widow to the church; but these accidents will occur, and when they do let's repair damages the best way we can. Well; why don't you speak; don't let me do all the talking." Stratton drew a deep breath. "Oh, it's of no use to sigh over it, sir, not a bit. Nothing to sigh for. Come, hang it all, Myra Barron's worth a few hundreds down, and a little income for her lawful lord. I don't want her, but I can't afford to sell her too cheaply--hang the thing!" He gave his head an uneasy jerk, and his hand played about his neck and the back of his right ear for a few moments, as if something troubled him. But it passed off directly, and he looked from one to the other again as he took a chair, turned it, and supported himself by propping himself with the back. "Now then: the parson's waiting, and the carriages and the people. Drink my health after its all over, and think to yourself I've behaved like a trump. Write out a cheque, and send the old man here to cash it, only look here, old fellow, no games, no tricks. You'll play fair--or I shall make it pretty unpleasant for all concerned, I can tell you. All right, you'll be square. You can't afford to play tricks. Now, then, we are agreed, eh? That's right. Better than having a furious row about nothing. What do you say?" "I was about to speak to my friend, sir," said Stratton quietly. Then turning to Brettison--"Now what do you think; we must completely alter our plans." "Yes," said Brettison, with a sigh. "Make your plans, gentlemen, when you've settled with me," said the man sternly, and he jerked one hand up to his neck again, and withdrew it with a gesture of annoyance. "Come, Stratton, it's only a few lines written with a pen, and you win all you want. Where do you keep your cheque-book? In your table-drawer." "There is only one way out of the difficulty, Brettison," said Stratton with a sigh. "Only one," said the old man sadly. "Bravo, that's common-sense," cried the man. "Sound wisdom. I told you so. Out with that cheque-book at once." "I'm afraid, sir," said Stratton sternly, "that we are at cross purposes." "What do you mean?" "That no money would ever buy your silence, even if I were disposed to play the part of scoundrel. You will get no hush money from me." "What?" "There is only one way out of this difficulty." "Oh, indeed!" said the man sarcastically; "and that is--" "To hand you over to the police." "What?"