“You appear to have been mistaken in your man,” said the stranger, coolly. “These are not your servants; they’re mine. Shall I tell them to seize you?” Potts glared at him with bloodshot eyes, but said nothing. “Shall I tell them to pull up your sleeve and display the mark of Bowhani, Sir? Shall I tell who and what you are? Shall I begin from your birth and give them a full and complete history of your life?” Potts looked around like a wild beast in the arena, seeking for some opening for escape, but finding nothing except hostile faces. “Do what you like!” he cried, desperately, with an oath, and sank down into stolid despair. “No; you don’t mean that,” said the other. “For I have some London policemen at the inn, and I might like best to hand you over to them on charges which you can easily imagine. You don’t wish me to do so, I think. You’d prefer being at large to being chained up in a cell, or sent to Botany Bay, I suppose? Still, if you prefer it, I will at once arrange an interview between yourself and these gentlemen.” “What do you want?” anxiously asked Potts, who now thought that he might come to terms, and perhaps gain his escape from the clutches of his enemy. “The title deeds of the Brandon estate,” said the stranger. “Never!” “Then off you go. They must be mine, at any rate. Nothing can prevent that. Either give them now and begone, or delay, and you go at once to jail.” “I won’t give them,” said Potts, desperately. “Cato!” said the stranger, “go and fetch the policemen.” “Stop!” cried John. At a sign Asgeelo, who had already taken two steps toward the door, paused. “Here, dad,” said John, “you’ve got to do it. You might as well hand over the papers. You don’t want to get into quod, I think.” Potts turned his pale face to his son. “Do it!” exclaimed John. “Well,” he said, with a sigh, “since I’ve got to, I’ve got to, I suppose. You know best, Johnnie. I always said you had a long head.” “I must go and get them,” he continued. “I’ll go with you; or no--Cato shall go with you, and I’ll wait here.” The Hindu went with Potts, holding his collar in his powerful grasp, and taking care to let Potts see the hilt of a knife which he carried up his sleeve, in the other hand. After about a quarter of an hour they returned, and Potts handed over to the stranger some papers. He looked at them carefully, and put them in his pocket. He then gave Potts the cord. Potts took it in an abstracted way, and said nothing. “You must leave this Hall to-night,” said the stranger, sternly--“you and your son. I remain here.” “Leave the Hall?” gasped Potts. “Yes.” For a moment he stood overwhelmed. He looked at John. John nodded his head slowly. “You’ve got to do it, dad,” said he. Potts turned savagely at the stranger. He shook his clenched fist at him. “D--n you!” he cried. “Are you satisfied yet? I know you. I’ll pay you up. What complaint have you against me, I’d like to know? I never harmed you.”