“Keeping up your spirits by pouring spirits down,” said Garvington, venturing on a weak joke.  “You’re in a state of siege, too.”

Silver certainly was.  He had bolted the shutters, and had piled furniture against the two windows of the room.  On the table beside the decanter and bottles of brandy, lay a poker, a heavy club which Lambert had brought from Africa, and had left behind when he gave up the cottage, a revolver loaded in all six chambers, and a large bread knife.  Apparently the man was in a dangerous state of despair and was ready to give the officers of the law a hostile welcome when they came to arrest him.  He touched the various weapons feverishly.

“I’ll give them beans,” he said, looking fearfully from right to left.  “Every door is locked; every window is bolted.  I’ve heaped up chairs and sofas and tables and chests of drawers, and wardrobes and mattresses against every opening to keep the devils out.  And the lamps—­look at the lamps.  Ugh!” he shuddered.  “I can’t bear to be in the dark.”

“Plenty of light,” observed Garvington, and spoke truly, for there must have been at least six lamps in the room—­two on the table, two on the mantel-piece, and a couple on the sideboard.  And amidst his primitive defences sat Silver quailing and quivering at every sound, occasionally pouring brandy down his throat to keep up his courage.

The white looks of the man, the disorder of the room, the glare of the many lights, and the real danger of the situation, communicated their thrill to Garvington.  He shivered and looked into shadowy corners, as Silver did; then strove to reassure both himself and his companion.  “Don’t worry so,” he said, sipping his brandy to keep him up to concert pitch, “I’ve got an idea which will be good for both of us.”

“What is it?” questioned the secretary cautiously.  He naturally did not trust the man who had betrayed him.

“Do you know who has inherited Pine’s money?”

“No.  The person named in the sealed envelope?”

“Exactly, and the person is Mother Cockleshell.”

Silver was so amazed that he forgot his fright.  “What?  Is Gentilla Stanley related to Pine?”

“She’s his grandmother, it seems.  One of my servants was at the camp to-day and found the gypsies greatly excited over the old cat’s windfall.”

“Whew!” Silver whistled and drew a deep breath.  “If I’d known that, I’d have got round the old woman.  But it’s too late now since all the fat is on the fire.  Mr. Lambert knows too much, and you have confessed what should have been kept quiet.”

“I had to save my own skin,” said Garvington sullenly.  “After all, I had nothing to do with the murder.  I never guessed that you were so mixed up in it until Lambert brought that bullet to fit the revolver I lent you.”

“And which I gave to Miss Greeby,” snapped Silver tartly.  “She is the criminal, not me.  What a wax she will be in when she learns the truth.  I expect your cousin will have her arrested.”