“The same—the same—where is he?”
“Ah; that’s jest what I shall keep for the present to myself. I don’t mind telling you that he does not know his own vally; and that I does; and I means to make a trifle by him; either out of you or Mr. Wilton; for if you don’t think it worth while to pay to keep the man dark; Mr. Wilton will; I daresay; think very little of a hundred or two to have him turn up.”
“Your intelligence is, indeed; important,” murmured Grahame with colourless features; “you swear that he is living; and can easily be produced?”
“I do.”
“I confess, if you are able to keep him out of the way, you are entitled to a handsome sum from me.”
“I thought you’d hear reason.”
“A-hem—when—when you say that you—that you will keep the man dark—those were yonr words, I think?”
Chewkle nodded.
“I feel I don’t precisely understand yonr meaning. Am I to be assured that you will—will so arrange matters that—this man—this Maybee—can never appear again, either to disturb my peace, or—or to substantiate Wilton’s claim to the estate?”
Mr. Grahame looked into Chewkle’s eyes with a strange meaning; Chewkle read the expression correctly instantly, and he instinctively shuddered and looked over his shoulder.