As a proof that she was in earnest she took her copy of the
cipher out of the bosom of her dress, and threw it into the fire.
"The original is safe in my old man's keeping," she added. "Leave
the room."

James rose with suspicious docility, and walked out, having his
own private ends in view.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Westerfield's old man was interrupted
over his work by a person of bulky and blackguard appearance,
whom he had never seen before.

The stranger introduced himself as a gentleman who was engaged to
marry Mrs. Westerfield: he requested (not at all politely) to be
permitted to look at the cipher. He was asked if he had brought a
written order to that effect, signed by the lady herself. Mr.
Bellbridge, resting his fists on the writing-table, answered that
he had come to look at the cipher on his own sole responsibility,
and that he insisted on seeing it immediately. "Allow me to show
you something else first," was the reply he received to this
assertion of his will and pleasure. "Do you know a loaded pistol,
sir, when you see it?" The barrel of the pistol approached within
three inches of the barman's big head as he leaned over the
writing-table. For once in his life he was taken by surprise. It
had never occurred to him that a professed interpreter of ciphers
might sometimes be trusted with secrets which placed him in a
position of danger, and might therefore have wisely taken
measures to protect himself. No power of persuasion is comparable
to the power possessed by a loaded pistol. James left the room;