The room was almost dark when Winston entered it, and stood still a moment staring at a man who sat, cigar in hand, quietly watching him.  His appearance was curiously familiar, but Winston could not see his face until he moved forward another step or two.  Then he stopped once more, and the two saying nothing looked at one another.  It was Winston who spoke first, and his voice was very even.

“What do you want here?” he asked.

The other man laughed.  “Isn’t that a curious question when the place is mine?  You don’t seem overjoyed to see me come to life again.”

Winston sat down and slowly lighted a cigar.  “We need not go into that.  I asked you what you want.”

“Well,” said Courthorne dryly, “it is not a great ideal.  Only the means to live in a manner more befitting a gentleman than I have been able to do lately.”

“You have not been prospering?” and Winston favored his companion with a slow scrutiny.

“No,” and Courthorne laughed again.  “You see, I could pick up a tolerable living as Lance Courthorne, but there is very little to be made at my business when you commence in new fields as an unknown man.”

“Well,” said Winston coldly, “I don’t know that it wouldn’t be better to face my trial than stay here at your mercy.  So far as my inclinations go, I would sooner fight than have any further dealings with a man like you.”

Courthorne shook his head.  “I fixed up the thing too well, and you would be convicted.  Still, we’ll not go into that, and you will not find me unreasonable.  A life at Silverdale would not suit me, and you know by this time that it would be difficult to sell the place, while I don’t know where I could find a tenant who would farm it better than you.  That being so, it wouldn’t be good policy to bleed you too severely.  Still, I want a thousand dollars in the meanwhile.  It’s mine, you see.”

Winston sat still a minute.  He was sensible of a fierce distrust and hatred of the man before him, but he felt he must at least see the consummation of his sowing.

“Then you shall have it on condition that you go away, and stay away, until harvest is over.  After that, I will send for you and shall have more to tell you.  If in the meantime you come back here, or hint that I am Winston, I will surrender to the police, or decide our differences in another fashion.”

Courthorne nodded.  “That is direct,” he said.  “One knows where he is when he deals with a man who talks as you do.  Now, are you not curious as to the way I cheated both the river and the police?”

“No,” said Winston grimly, “not in the least.  We will talk business together when it is necessary, but I can only decline to discuss anything else with you.”

Courthorne laughed.  “There’s nothing to be gained by pretending to misunderstand you, but it wouldn’t pay me to be resentful when I’m graciously willing to let you work for me.  Still, I have been inclined to wonder how you were getting on with my estimable relatives and connections.  One of them has, I hear, unbent a trifle towards you, but I would like to warn you not to presume on any small courtesy shown you by the younger Miss Barrington.”