"What! another murder, Sir Reginald!" said Thornton. "No, I am not a
sparrow, to have my neck wrenched by a woman's hand like your's. Give me
my demand--sign the paper, and I will leave you for ever and a day."

"I will commit no such folly," answered Glanville. "If you will accept
five thousand pounds, you shall have that sum; but were the rope on my
neck, you should not wring from me a farthing more!"

"Five thousand!" repeated Thornton; "a mere drop--a child's toy--why, you
are playing with me, Sir Reginald--nay, I am a reasonable man, and will
abate a trifle or so of my just claims, but you must not take advantage
of my good nature. Make me snug and easy for life--let me keep a brace of
hunters--a cosey box--a bit of land to it, and a girl after my own heart,
and I'll say quits with you. Now, Mr. Pelham, who is a long-headed
gentleman, and does not spit on his own blanket, knows well enough that
one can't do all this for five thousand pounds; make it a thousand a
year--that is, give me a cool twenty thousand--and I won't exact another
sous. Egad, this drinking makes one deuced thirsty--Mr. Pelham, just
reach me that glass of water--I hear bees in my head!"

Seeing that I did not stir, Thornton rose, with an oath against pride;
and swaggering towards the table, took up a tumbler of water, which
happened accidentally to be there: close by it was the picture of the
ill-fated Gertrude. The gambler, who was evidently so intoxicated as to
be scarcely conscious of his motions or words (otherwise, in all
probability, he would, to borrow from himself a proverb illustrative of
his profession, have played his cards better) took up the portrait.

Glanville saw the action, and was by his side in an instant. "Touch it
not with your accursed hands!" he cried, in an ungovernable fury. "Leave