The Lord has delivered you into my hands, dear friend--on your
own initiative. I hold my cheque, endorsed by you, and cashed at my
banker's, as a hostage, so to speak, for your future good behaviour.
If ever you recognise me, and betray me to that solemn old ass, your
employer, remember, I expose it, and you with it to him. So now we
understand each other. I had not thought of this little dodge; it
was you who suggested it. However, I jumped at it. Was it not well
worth my while paying you that slight commission in return for a
guarantee of your future silence? Your mouth is now closed. And
cheap too at the price.--Yours, dear Comrade, in the great
confraternity of rogues,
"CUTHBERT CLAY, Colonel."
Charles laid his note down, and grizzled. "What's yours, Sey?"
he asked.
"From a lady," I answered.
He gazed at me suspiciously. "Oh, I thought it was the same hand,"
he said. His eye looked through me.
"No," I answered. "Mrs. Mortimer's." But I confess I trembled.
He paused a moment. "You made all inquiries at this fellow's bank?"
he went on, after a deep sigh.
"Oh, yes," I put in quickly. (I had taken good care about that,
you may be sure, lest he should spot the commission.) "They say
the self-styled Count von Lebenstein was introduced to them by
the Southampton Row folks, and drew, as usual, on the Lebenstein
account: so they were quite unsuspicious.
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