story.

"Sir Timothy was as hard as nails," he said slowly. "He saw me. The
moment I had finished, he rang the bell. 'Hedges,' he said to the
manservant who came in, 'this man has come here to try and blackmail me.
Throw him out. If he gives any trouble, send for the police. If he shows
himself here again, send for the police."'

"What happened then?"

"Well, I nearly blurted out the whole story," the man confessed, "and
then I remembered that wouldn't do me any good, so I went away. I got a
job at the Ritz, but I was took ill a few days afterwards. I went to see
a doctor. From him I got my death-warrant, sir."

"Is it heart?"

"It's heart, sir," the man acknowledged. "The doctor told me I might
snuff out at any moment. I can't live, anyway, for more than a year.
I've got a little girl."

"Now just why have you come to see me?" Francis asked.

"For just this, sir," the man replied. "Here's my account of what
happened," he went on, drawing some sheets of foolscap from his
pocket. "It's written in my own hand and there are two witnesses to my
signature--one a clergyman, sir, and the other a doctor, they thinking
it was a will or something. I had it in my mind to send that to Scotland
Yard, and then I remembered that I hadn't a penny to leave my little
girl. I began to wonder--think as meanly of me as you like, sir--how
I could still make some money out of this. I happened to know that you
were none too friendly disposed towards Sir Timothy. This confession of
mine, if it wouldn't mean hanging, would mean imprisonment for the rest
of his life. You could make a better bargain with him than me, sir. Do
you want to hold him in your power? If so, you can have this confession,
all signed and everything, for two hundred pounds, and as I live, sir,
that two hundred pounds is to pay for my funeral, and the balance for my
little girl."

Francis took the papers and glanced them through.

"Supposing I buy this document from you," he said, "what is its actual
value? You could write out another confession, get that signed, and
sell it to another of Sir Timothy's enemies, or you could still go to
Scotland Yard yourself."

"I shouldn't do that, sir, I assure you," the man declared nervously,
"not on my solemn oath. I want simply to be quit of the whole matter and
have a little money for the child."

Francis considered for a moment.

"There is only one way I can see," he said, "to make this document worth
the money to me.