Silver was not surprised to see his landlord, as it seemed that Garvington paid him frequent visits.  But he certainly showed an uneasy amazement when Lambert stalked in behind the fat little man.  Silver was also small, and also cowardly, and also not quite at rest in his conscience, so he shivered when he met the very direct gaze of his unwelcome visitor.

“You have come to look at your old house, Mr. Lambert,” he remarked, when the two made themselves comfortable by the studio fire.

“Not at all.  I have come to see you,” was the grim response.

“That is an unexpected honor,” said Silver uneasily, and his eyes sought those of Lord Garvington, who was spreading out his hands to the blaze, looking blue with cold.  He caught Silver’s inquiring look.

“I couldn’t help it,” said Garvington crossly.  “I must look after myself.”

Silver’s smooth, foxy face became livid, and he could scarcely speak.  When he did, it was with a sickly smile.  “Whatever are you talking about, my lord?”

“Oh, you know, d——­ you!  I did give you that revolver, you know.”

“The revolver?” Silver stared.  “Yes, why should I deny it?  I suppose you have come to get it back?”

“I have come to get it, Mr. Silver,” put in Lambert politely.  “Hand it over to me, if you please.”

“If you like.  It certainly has your name on the handle,” said the secretary so quietly that the other man was puzzled.  Silver did not seem to be so uncomfortable as he might have been.

“The revolver was one of a pair which I had especially made when I went to Africa some years ago,” explained Lambert elaborately, and determined to make his listener understand the situation thoroughly.  “On my return I made them a present to my cousin.  I understand, Mr. Silver, that Lord Garvington lent you one—­”

“And kept the other,” interrupted the man sharply.  “That is true.  I was afraid of burglars, since Lord Garvington was always talking about them, so I asked him to lend me a weapon to defend myself with.”

“And you used it to shoot Pine,” snapped Garvington, anxious to end his suspense and get the interview over as speedily as possible.

Silver rose from his seat in an automatic manner, and turned delicately pale.  “Are you mad?” he gasped, looking from one man to the other.

“It’s all very well you talking,” whimpered Garvington with a shiver; “but Pine was shot with that revolver I lent you.”

“It’s a lie!”

“Oh, I knew you’d say that,” complained Garvington, shivering again.  “But I warned you that there might be trouble, since you carried that letter for me, so that it might fall by chance into Pine’s hands.”

“Augh!” groaned Silver, sinking back into his chair and passing his tongue over a pair of dry, gray lips.  “Hold your tongue, my lord.”

“What’s the use?  He knows,” and Garvington jerked his head in the direction of his cousin.  “The game’s up, Silver—­the game’s up!”