Miles made no reply.
"The natural thing," Dick continued, "would have been to crawl away, when I heard who you were, and call the police. You see I have not done that."
Still not a word.
"Another, and perhaps fairer, way would be to give you a fair start from this spot and this minute, and not say a word for an hour or two, until people are about; the hare-and-hounds principle, in fact. But I don't mean to do that either."
Miles raised his eyes, and at last broke his silence.
"You are arbitrary," he sneered. "May I ask what is the special quality of torture you have reserved for me? I am interested to know."
"I shall name a condition," replied Dick firmly—"a single condition—on which, so far as I am concerned, you may impose on the public until some one else unmasks you."
"I don't believe you!"
"You have not heard my condition. I am in earnest."
"I wouldn't believe you on oath!"