Fagin emptied the glass in his hand, giving utterance to an oath as he replaced it on the table.
"Yer as chicken-hearted drunk as sober, Grant," he said coarsely. "Did yer hear the fool, Jones, an' after all I've told him?"
The bearded man nodded silently, his eyes shifting from one face to the other. Fagin grinned, and poured out another drink.
"Now listen again," he went on, half angrily. "That boy's worth money ter us—a thousand pounds,—but it wouldn't do yer any good ter be mixed up in the affair, would it? What chance would yer have in this estate, or fer yer commission either, if Howe or Clinton got an inklin' of yer game? Good Lord, man! they'd hang yer instead of the other fellow. You'll have ter lie some as it is, I reckon, ter explain why yer left Sir Henry, an' came down here. Have yer got that fact inter yer brains?"
Grant glared at him wickedly, but remained silent across the table.
"Yer already in bad enough, without huntin' more trouble. Better leave the boy alone. I thought, at first, we'd have ter use him, but I don't now. Let the girl believe he's deserted, and that yer in a position ter help him. That will serve yer purpose better than the other scheme. It may awaken her gratitude, her sweet love!"
"Damn her love!"
"So it isn't love, eh, that makes yer so anxious. I thought as much. What is it, then—revenge?"
Grant held his breath a moment, his dull eyes on the faces of the two men.
"Well, I might as well tell you," he snarled at last. "I loved her once, I guess; anyhow I wanted her badly enough. I want her now, but not in just the same way. I want to show her I'm the master. I want to give her a lesson, and that cub brother of hers. I'd have got them all, the Colonel with them, if that damned Colonial spy hadn't stolen my coat. I had them, dead to rights, Fagin, and the papers to prove it. Now I don't care how it's done, so I get her. I thought she'd marry me to save the boy, but if she won't, why then, you carry out your plan—what is it?"