"Don't use nasty words. It won't help you to be nasty. I'm top-dog, Hench, so you had better give in."
"Two words go to a bargain," said Hench calmly. "What am I to gain in return for this two thousand a year?"
"My silence."
"About what?" Spruce started up, looking peevishly angry. "Don't try me too far, Hench. You know quite well what I mean. A word from me to the police and you will be arrested straight away for the murder of your uncle."
"Oh, indeed. You seem to be very certain of my guilt."
"Whether I am certain or not doesn't matter," retorted the other. "I hold you in the hollow of my hand."
"Explain how you do that."
"Oh, very well," said Spruce, sitting down again. "If you will have chapter and verse I am willing to oblige you, although I think you are wasting my time."
The Nut drew a long breath and then proceeded to inform his host of his discoveries. These had to do with the insertion of the advertisement, with the visit of Hench on the fatal night to Cookley, and with the inheritance which the untoward death of Madoc Evans had brought the young man. "So you see," concluded the Nut, "that I have only to go to the police with this tale to ensure your arrest."
"I quite admit that, Spruce. In fact, I admit the truth of all your story. I should like to know how you found out all about the business. You could scarcely go to Madame Alpenny and force it out of her without some previous knowledge."