"Not you, my dear fellow, but your judgment," Van Bleit replied easily. "If it hadn't been for me you would have parted with a fortune for a beggarly sum long since." "I'd be content," observed Denzil in an injured tone, "with a handsome sum down. Where's the sense in squeezing a man past his endurance?" "We've got to find out how far his endurance goes," the other answered. "Your conscience is over sensitive, my boy, for a job of this kind. We've a handsome annuity in those letters... Why on earth should we sink it in a sum we should both squander in a year? There's no reason in it, and no commercial instinct. Apart from that, I've gone through an experience that entitles me to redress. Do you suppose I've endured nothing in standing on my trial? I wasn't responsible for Simmonds' death; it was his own silly fault. But I might have had to pay for it. The other side has got to make that good to me, and it isn't to be done cheaply. Putting a man's private feelings on one side, think of the expense of counsel's fees, and such things?" Van Bleit was careful not to mention that all the expenses of his trial had been borne by Theodore Smythe, who laboured under the delusion that his wife's cousin had very little ready money at his command. It was a mystery to him how Van Bleit lived. Had he suspected him of blackmailing, he would not have lifted a finger to save his neck from the rope. Denzil nodded shortly. "Yes, of course... I quite see your point," he said. "At the same time, I wish you could come to some sort of agreement. I think after this Grey might meet you quite handsomely. And it would be satisfactory to me, at least, to be finished with the business. Men have got twenty years for blackmail before now." Van Bleit drew himself up and eyed his subordinate aggressively. "If you're funking it," he said, "say so, and be done with it. I'm not going to work with a man I can't be sure of. We have worked together so far satisfactorily that it will be regrettable if you separate our interests now. But it has to be now or never. I'm not throwing this up for any scruple. Do you, or do you not, stand in with me?" Denzil's nature was weak, prone to any influence; and the dominating personality of the other man bore him down easily. "Of course I stand in with you," he said. "Our interests are identical." "Good!" Van Bleit rejoined. "You're a wobbler, Dick; but you generally rise to the occasion. Then you go with me to-morrow? You won't find it very amusing, though it may have its exciting moments... Unless, of course, the lady is still keeping house for Grit. But from the invite I imagine she has left him in the lurch." "He'd scarcely ask you up there if he'd got any women about," was the reply, which Van Bleit construed into a compliment. He smiled complacently. "I wouldn't mind hunting down the quarry on my own account," he said. "She was devilishly handsome--and a dashed bad lot." CHAPTER SIXTEEN.