“Ten years are ten centuries at my time of life.  You shan’t denounce me.”

Garvington rose.  “Yes, I shall,” he declared, rendered desperate by the dread lest he should lose the million.  “I’m going to Wanbury to-night to tell Inspector Darby and get a warrant for Miss Greeby’s arrest along with yours as her accomplice.”

Silver flung himself forward and gripped Garvington’s coat.  “You daren’t!”

“Yes, I dare.  I can’t be hurt.  I didn’t murder the man and I’m not going to lose a pile of money for your silly scruples.”

“Oh, my lord, consider.”  Silver in a panic dropped on his knees.  “I shall be shut up for years; it will kill me; it will kill me!  And you don’t know what a terrible and clever woman Miss Greeby is.  She may deny that I gave her the revolver and I can’t prove that I did.  Then I might be accused of the crime and hanged.  Hanged!” cried the poor wretch miserably.  “Oh, you’ll never give me away, my lord, will you.”

“Confound you, don’t I risk my reputation to get the money,” raged Garvington, shaking off the trembling arms which were round his knees.  “The truth of the letter will have to come out, and then I’m dished so far as society is concerned.  I wouldn’t do it—­tell that is—­but that the stakes are so large.  One million is waiting to be picked up and I’m going to pick it up.”

“No! no! no! no!” Silver grovelled on the floor and embraced Garvington’s feet.  But the more he wailed the more insulting and determined did the visitor become.  Like all tyrants and bullies Garvington gained strength and courage from the increased feebleness of his victim.  “Don’t give me up,” wept the secretary, nearly beside himself with terror; “don’t give me up.”

“Oh, damn you, get out of the way!” said Garvington, and made for the door.  “I go straight to Wanbury,” which statement was a lie, as he first intended to see Mother Cockleshell at the camp and make certain that the reward was safe.  But Silver believed him and was goaded to frenzy.

“You shan’t go!” he screamed, leaping to his feet, and before Garvington knew where he was the secretary had the heavy poker in his grasp.  The little fat lord gave a cry of terror and dodged the first blow which merely fell on his shoulder.  But the second alighted on his head and with a moan he dropped to the ground.  Silver flung away the poker.

“Are you dead? are you dead?” he gasped, kneeling beside Garvington, and placed his hand on the senseless man’s heart.  It still beat feebly, so he arose with a sigh of relief.  “He’s only stunned,” panted Silver, and staggered unsteadily to the table to seize a glass of brandy.  “I’ll, ah—­ah—­ah!” he shrieked and dropped the tumbler as a loud and continuous knocking came to the front door.