"That's all, sir," replied Mr. Timmins, with a grim smile. "It ain't likely I'd been fool enough to bring the original here. I did the copy myself, an' though I ain't much of a scholar, I do say as it reads for what it's meant to be, word for word."
"I want better proof than this, my man."
"Ain't you satisfied? Look at the date of the letter, an' where it was written, an' what it says. Could I invent such a thing?"
"No; you couldn't," Nevill admitted. "You have the original letter, you say?"
"I've had that and other papers for years, hid away in a safe place, which is where they lie now. It's only lately I looked into them deep, so to speak, and saw what they might be worth to me. I studied them, sir, and by putting things together I found there were three persons concerned—three chances for me to try."
"You are a cunning fellow," said Nevill. "Why did you bring the letter to me?"
"Because it pointed that way. I knew you were the biggest bird, and the one most likely to pay me for my secret. It was quite a different matter with the others—"
"You haven't seen them?"
"No fear!" Mr. Timmins answered, emphatically. "I spotted you as my man from the first, and I'm glad you've got the sense to look at it right. I hope we understand each other."
"I don't think there can be much doubt about that," replied Nevill, whose quick mind had grasped the situation in all its bearings; he realized that there was no alternative—save ruin—but to submit to the scoundrel's terms. But the bargain must be made as easy as possible.