It came from Smythe.
With an oath he sprang at the captain and seized him by the throat.
"You villain! You've tricked me! You planned all this, you scoundrel! You did! You did! You have sold me, but I'll sell you! I'll have the money, or your infernal life!"
The captain struggled and fought to free himself from his dupe's grasp, but he could not, and Mr. Wilhelm Smythe, nerved and goaded to madness, pushed the earl and his servants aside and dragged Mr. Murpoint into the hall.
"Now," he hissed in his ear, "get out your check-book and write me a check for twenty thousand pounds, or I'll kill you! I'll do worse; I'll publish the story and the bet in every club in London! d'ye hear? you thought to get the better of me, to play the idiot and hold me up to ridicule, but you shan't! you shan't! I'll have the money, the money, or I'll crush you!"
"Silence!" hissed the captain, glancing round at the astonished group of guests and servants. "Come outside," and he in turn half dragged and half led the unfortunate man into the courtyard.
"I'll give you the check to-morrow."
"Now, now! this moment, or I'll split all!" cried Smythe, and with an oath he darted his hand in the captain's face.
Howard Murpoint's eyes grew dark, but he was as pale as death. Fear ran in his heart, for he saw that his first ill-luck had set in.
"Confound you!" he cried, "you shall have it! I'll give you a hundred thousand pounds to be rid of such a madman," and with a shaking hand he took a check from his book and filled it in.