“We will not put it that way, Mr. Scott,” Hobson replied, his small, malignant eyes gleaming with delight at the ease with which his prey was falling into his clutches.  “It is like this:  Ralph Mainwaring and Thornton are prejudiced against me; I might not be able to work them as successfully as I could wish, but you and I could work together very smoothly.  I could remain invisible, as it were, and give you the benefit of the information I possess and of my experience and advice, and you could then successfully manipulate the wires which would bring in the ducats for both of us.  What do you say, my young friend?”

“Do you think that either Ralph Mainwaring or Mr. Thornton would care enough for any secrets you might be able to disclose to pay you hush money?”

“I object to the term of ‘hush money.’  I am merely trying to get what was due me from Hugh Mainwaring.  As he never paid me in full, his heirs must.  Yes, I could work them after they return to England and set up in style on the old Mainwaring estate.  They would be rather sensitive about the family reputation then.”

“Where are the beneficiaries of that will that was destroyed?” Scott suddenly inquired.

Hobson looked sharply at him.  “Dead, long ago.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking that if they or their heirs were living, it would be better to go to them with this information.  They would probably pay a good price for it.”

“You’re right, they would,” Hobson replied, approvingly; “but they are all dead.”

“Were there no heirs left?”

“None whatever, more’s the pity.  However, I’ve got a good hold on these English chaps and will make them hand over the sovereigns yet.”

The contempt which Scott had hitherto concealed as Hobson unfolded his plans was now plainly visible on his face as he rose from his chair.

“Don’t hasten, my young friend,” said Hobson, eagerly.  “Sit down, sit down; we have not laid our plans yet.”

“No, nor will we,” was the reply.  “If you think to make a cat’s-paw of me in any of your dirty, contemptible pieces of work, you are mistaken.  If you think that I came here with any intention of listening for one moment to any of your vile propositions, you are mistaken.  I came here simply to satisfy myself on one point.  My errand is accomplished, and I will remain no longer.”

Hobson had sprung to his feet and now faced Scott, barring the way to the door, while fear, anger, defiance, and hate passed in rapid succession across his evil countenance, making his appearance more demon-like than ever.

“You lie!” he exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper.  “I have not given you one word of information!”

“No,” Scott interrupted, “you have given me no information, and you could give me none, for the reason that I know more concerning this whole affair than you do.  I also have knowledge of certain other matters regarding one Richard Hobson, alias Dick Carroll, and his London adventures.”