do you?'

'As that pal has given you away for the last five years, it seems to
me you need not show very much consideration for him.'

'I'm not so sure he did.'

'I am; but never mind that point. Colonel Jim Baxter shot Wyoming Ed
and killed him. Why?'

'See here, my friend, you're going a little too fast. I didn't say
that.'

He reached somewhat defiantly for the bottle from Canada.

'Pardon me,' I said, rising quietly, and taking possession of the
bottle myself, 'it grieves me more than I can say to restrict my
hospitality. I have never done such a thing in my life before, but
this is not a drinking bout; it is a very serious conference. The
whisky you have already taken has given you a bogus courage, and a
false view of things. Are you going to tell me the truth, or are you
not?'

Jack pondered on this for a while, then he said:--

'Well, sir, I'm perfectly willing to tell you the truth as far as it
concerns myself, but I don't want to rat on a friend.'

'As I have said, he isn't your friend. He told you to take the name of
Wyoming Ed, so that he might blackmail the father of Wyoming Ed. He
has done so for the last five years, living in luxury here in London,
and not moving a finger to help you. In fact, nothing would appal him
more than to learn that you are now in this country. By this time he
has probably received the news from the prison doctor that you are
dead, and so thinks himself safe for ever.'

'If you can prove that to me--' said Jack.

'I can and will,' I interrupted; then, turning to Sanderson, I
demanded:--

'When are you to meet this man next?'

'Tonight, at nine o'clock,' he answered. 'His monthly payment is due,
and he is clamouring for the large sum I told you of.'

'Where do you meet him? In London?'

'Yes.'

'At your master's town house?'

'Yes.'

'Will you take us there, and place us where we can see him and he
can't see us?'

'Yes. I trust to your honour, Mr. Valmont. A closed carriage will call
for me at eight, and you can accompany me. Still, after all, Mr
Valmont, we have no assurance that he is the same person this young
man refers to.'

'I am certain he is. He does not go under the name of Colonel Jim
Baxter, I suppose?'

'No.'

The convict had been looking from one to the other of us during this
colloquy. Suddenly he drew his chair up closer to the table.

'Look here,' he said, 'you fellows are square, I can see that, and
after all's said and done, you're