"He might believe you, but I should think it extremely doubtful. On the other hand, what if I tell him all I know about you? Who you are, for instance, and what drove you out of England?"
Murkard turned, if possible, even paler than before.
"You could not, surely, blackguard as you are, be villain enough for that!"
"My dear fellow, I would do it in an instant if it suited me—and I rather think it would. You see, I have a game to play here, and, by Jove! come what may, I intend to play it. Your presence is detrimental to my interests. I may have to rid myself of you."
"I shall go to Ellison at once, and tell him all."
"You will spike your own guns then, I promise you, and without doing yourself a hap'orth of good. Besides, you will in all probability be putting me to the unpleasant necessity of—but there, you won't—you can't do it."
"Have you let him suspect who I am?"
"Not by one single word or deed. As far as I am concerned, he knows nothing."
"On your honour?—but there, I forget; you have no honour."
"What an extraordinary little chap it is, to be sure! Of course I've no honour. In this commercial age nobody outside the covers of books has. But all the same, I am not in the humour just now to be trifled with. As I say, he knows nothing, and he shall know nothing if you do as I wish. Why not go away for a holiday? you need a change. Come back in a month; I shall be gone then. There's a compact for you. Give me a clear field for a month, and I'll give you my promise not to reveal the fact that I know anything of your past. Will you agree?"