He checked himself in the torrent of his rage and lifted his hand menacingly.
“Harkee!” he cried. “I can do that and at a word I would! Now, d’ye set your little tin plate against my bludgeon?”
“Yes,” I said.
He seemed to doubt my answer, as if his ears had misinterpreted it, for he went on:
“If you value your life keep out of my way. Take the lesson from your father. He knew what I could do if I chose; and he took the best means in his power to buy my silence.”
I gave a cry of fierce triumph.
“So—the secret is out! It was to save me, as he thought, that my father parted with his treasure!”
The blackmailer gave no answer.
I went and stood close up against him, daring him with the manliness he lacked.
“You are a contemptible, dastardly poltroon,” I said, with all the coldest scorn I could muster.