re not mistaken," said Nevill. "But how did you learn my name,
and what do you want with me?"

On a natural impulse, fancying he recognized a racing tipster who had
been of service to him in the past, he reached for his pocket; the
jingling of coin was heard.

"Stow that--I'm not a beggar!" the man said, sharply.

"I beg your pardon! I thought I recalled--"

"We never met before, Mr. Nevill."

"Then it's a queer time of night for a stranger to hunt me up. If you
have business with me, come in the morning; or, better still, write to
me."

"I've got to talk to you to-night, sir, and I ain't to be put off. For
two blessed hours I've been hanging around this house, watching an'
waiting--"

"A sad waste of time! You are an impudent fellow, whoever you are. I
refuse to have anything to do with you."

"I think you'll change your mind, sir. If you don't you'll be sorry till
your dying day."

"You scoundrel, do you dare to threaten me?" cried Nevill. "There is
only one remedy for ruffians of your kind--" He looked up and down the
street in search of a policeman.

"You can call an officer if you like," the man said, scornfully; "or, if
you choose to order me away, I'll go. But in that case," he bent nearer
and dropped his voice to a whisper, "I'll take my secret straight to Sir
Lucius Chesney. And I'll warrant _he_ won't refuse to hear it."

Nevill's countenance changed, and he seemed to wilt instantly.

"Your secret?" he muttered. "Are you telling the truth? What is it?"

"Do you suppose I'm going to give that away here in the street? It's a
private matter, and can only be told under shelter, where there ain't no
danger of eavesdroppers."

"I'll trust you," replied Nevill, after a brief hesitation. "Come, you
shall go to my rooms. But I warn you in advance that if you are playing
a game of blackmail I'll have no mercy on you."

"I won't ask none. Don't you fear."

Nevill opened the house door, and the two went softly up the dimly lit
staircase. The gas-lamps were turned on, revealing the luxuries of the
front apartment, and the visitor looked about him with bewildered
admiration; he seemed to feel his unfitness for the place, and
instinctively buttoned his coat over his shabby linen. But that was only
for a moment. With an insolent smile he took possession of a
basket-chair, helped himself to a cigar, and poured some brandy from a
_carafe_ into a glass. Meanwhile Nevill had drawn the window curtains,
and whe