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THE DEATH-DOCTOR

"Heaven alone knows! Face the music, I suppose."

"Bosh!" I laughed. "You're surely not going to act the fool?"

"I don't quite follow you, d'Escombe," he said. "Can you see any way out of it?"

"Well," I replied with some hesitation. "There is—one way."

"How?" he cried eagerly, rising and facing me earnestly. I was silent for a few moments, carefully examining my well-manicured finger-nails.

"This man Davies is not a very reliable person, is he? From what I gathered, he possesses certain proofs of your dishonesty, and he alone knows how much you've had—and how you have had it. Am I correct?"

"Yes. He knows everything. He's learnt it in a most artful way."

"Probably in order to bleed you. He believes you to be well off."

"In all probability."

"Well," I said; "you have only to reckon with him. You are certain of that?"

"Yes, at present nobody else knows. And he will tell nobody, otherwise he couldn't blackmail me afterwards."

"Good. Then he is your sole enemy," I

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