“Well, well,” interrupted Mr. Flint; “put it in that light, how you please; turn it which way you will; it’s like the key in Blue Beard, which, I dare say, you have read of; rub it out on one side, and up it comes on the other.  Say, by way of argument, that you have not obtained money by unfounded threats—­a crime which the law holds tantamount to highway robbery.  You have in that case obtained money for compromising a felony—­that of polygamy.  An awful position, my good sir, choose which you will.”

Utterly chop-fallen was the lately triumphant man; but he speedily rallied.

“I care not,” he at length said.  “Punish me you may; but the pride of this sham countess and the sham earl will be brought low.  And I tell you once for all,” he added, rising at the same time, and speaking in ringing, wrathful tones, “that I defy you, and will either be handsomely remunerated for silence, or I will at once inform the Honorable James Kingston that he is the true Earl of Seyton.”

“And I tell you,” retorted Flint, “that if you attempt to leave this room, I will give you into custody at once, and transport you, whatever may be the consequence to others.  Come, come, let us have no more nonsense or bluster.  We have strong reasons for believing that the story by which you have been extorting money, is a fabrication.  If it be so, rely upon it we shall detect and punish you.  Your only safe course is to make a clean breast of it whilst there is yet time.  Out with it, man, at once, and you shall go Scot-free; nay, have a few score pounds more—­say a hundred.  Be wise in time, I counsel you.”

Chilton hesitated; his white lips quivered.  There was something to reveal.

“I cannot,” he muttered, after a considerable pause.  “There is nothing to disclose.”

“You will not!  Then your fate be on your own head.  I have done with you.”

It was now my turn.  “Come, come,” I said, “it is useless urging this man further.  How much do you expect?  The insolent proposal contained in your note is, you well know, out of the question.  How much money do you expect for keeping this wretched affair secret?  State your terms at once.”

“A thousand per annum,” was the reply, “and the first year down.”

“Modest, upon my word!  But I suppose we must comply.”  I wrote out an agreement.  “Will you sign this?”

He ran it over.  “Yes; Lady Seyton, as she calls herself, will take care it never sees the light.”

I withdrew, and in two or three minutes returned with a check.  “Her ladyship has no present cash at the bankers,” I said, “and is obliged to post-date this check twelve days.”

The rascal grumbled a good deal; but as there was no help for it, he took the security, signed the agreement, and walked off.

“A sweet nut that for the devil to crack,” observed Mr. Flint, looking savagely after him.  “I am in hopes we shall trounce him yet, bravely as he carries it.  The check of course is not payable to order or bearer”