“I don’t think so.  He has some silly idea in his head about the honor of our name, and won’t press matters unless he is forced to.”

“Who can force him?” asked Silver, looking more at ease, since he saw a gleam of hope.

“Chaldea!  She’s death on making trouble.”

“Can’t we silence her?  Remember you swing on my hook.”

“No, I don’t,” contradicted Garvington sharply.  “I can’t be arrested.”

“For forging that letter you can!”

“Not at all.  I did not write it to lure Pine to his death, but only wished to maim him.”

“That will get you into trouble,” insisted Silver, anxious to have a companion in misery.

“It won’t, I tell you.  There’s no one to prosecute.  You are the person who is in danger, as you knew Miss Greeby to be guilty, and are therefore an accessory after the fact.”

“If Mr. Lambert has the honor of your family at heart he will do nothing,” said the secretary hopefully; “for if Miss Greeby is arrested along with me the writing of that letter is bound to come out.”

“I don’t care.  It’s worth a million.”

“What is worth a million?”

“The exposure.  See here, Silver, I hear that Mother Cockleshell is willing to hand over that sum to the person who finds the murderer of her grandson.  We know that Miss Greeby is guilty, so why not give her up and earn the money?”

The secretary rose in quivering alarm.  “But I’d be arrested also.  You said so; you know you said so.”

“And I say so again,” remarked Garvington, leaning back coolly.  “You’d not be hanged, you know, although she would.  A few years in prison would be your little lot and when you came out I could give you say—­er—­er—­ten thousand pounds.  There!  That’s a splendid offer.”

“Where would you get the ten thousand?  Tell me!” asked Silver with a curious look.

“From the million Mother Cockleshell would hand over to me.”

“For denouncing me?”

“For denouncing Miss Greeby.”

“You beast!” shrieked Silver hysterically.  “You know quite well that if she is taken by the police I have no chance of escaping.  I’d run away now if I had the cash.  But I haven’t.  I count on your cousin keeping quiet because of your family name, and you shan’t give the show away.”

“But think,” said Garvington, persuasively, “a whole million.”

“For you, and only ten thousand for me.  Oh, I like that.”

“Well, I’ll make it twenty thousand.”

“No! no.”

“Thirty thousand.”

“No! no! no!”

“Forty, fifty, sixty, seventy—­oh, hang it, you greedy beast!  I’ll give you one hundred thousand.  You’d be rich for life then.”

“Would I, curse you!” Silver clenched his fists and backed against the wall looking decidedly dangerous.  “And risk a life-long sentence to get the money while you take the lion’s share.”

“You’d only get ten years at most,” argued the visitor, annoyed by what he considered to be silly objections.