He was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. CHAPTER XXII. THE BEGINNING OF THE END Alan started to his feet at that imperative summons. Had Beauchamp been overheard by Mrs. Marry? Had his disguise been penetrated? Had she brought some one to witness the discovery? These thoughts rushed through his mind with lightning speed, and for the moment he lost his presence of mind. Not so the man who was truly in danger. Adopting the peculiar shuffle of the Quiet Gentleman, he crossed the room and opened the door. As the key turned in the lock Alan fully expected to see Lestrange, menacing and sinister, on the threshold. But the newcomer proved to be Blair. "How are you getting on, Mr. Thorold?" he said, stepping through the door, which Beauchamp locked behind him. "You know now who the Quiet Gentleman is. Don't look so scared, sir." "Can't help it," muttered the young man. "This business has been rather too much for me. I thought when you knocked, that Lestrange had run his prey to earth." "He won't get much out of his prey if he does," said Blair, with a nod to Beauchamp. "I have seen Mrs. Warrender." The old man turned as white as the beard he wore. "And--and--what does she say?" he stammered. "Say!" Blair seated himself and chuckled. "She says two thousand pounds will pay her for that confession." "Then it does exist! Warrender knew the truth!" "Of course. Didn't I tell you the man was a blackmailing scoundrel? Faith! and his wife is not much better. Two thousand pounds for a bit of paper!" "And for my freedom!" said Beauchamp excitedly. "Oh to think of being free from the horror which has hung over me all these years! And Warrender knew the truth! What a scoundrel! He always swore that he knew nothing, and I paid him money to hold his tongue about my supposed guilt. Ungrateful wretch! He and his wife arrived in England almost penniless. I met him in London, and, as he knew my story, I brought him down here. I helped him in every way. How was it he left a confession behind him?" "It is an old confession," replied Blair. "It seems that Warrender fell ill of fever in New Orleans. His conscience smote him for his villainy, and he made a full confession, signed it, and had it witnessed. When he recovered he did not destroy it, but kept it safely with the rest of his papers. There Mrs. Warrender found it, and she is now prepared to sell it for two thousand pounds. A nice sum, upon my word!" grumbled Blair. "She shall have it," said Beauchamp eagerly. "I would pay five thousand for that confession--I would indeed!" "I dare say. But Mrs. Warrender will give it to you for the lesser sum, sir." "Does she know that I am here? Did you tell her?" "Not such a fool, Mr. Beauchamp. She'd have asked five thousand if she had known that. The woman has the blackmailing instinct."