“Bertram?”
The young man started from his fixed position, and his eyes slowly traversed toward his uncle.
“Have you that slip of paper which the man gave you before departing?”
“Yes,” said he.
“Let me have it, if you please.”
The young man with an agitated look, plunged his hand into his pocket, drew out the small note and laid it on the table between them. Mr. Sylvester let it lie, and again there was a silence.
“If this had happened at any other time,” Bertram pursued, “one could afford to let the man have his say; but now, just as this other mystery has come up—”
“I don’t believe in submitting to blackmail,” came from his uncle in short, quick tones.
Bertram gave a start. “You then advise me to leave him alone?” asked he, with unmistakable emotion.