'Why, really, Captain Lake, I did not very well know, it _is such_ a
production--I could not say whether you would wish it presented; and in
any case you will do me the justice to understand that I, for my part--I
really don't know how to speak of it.

'Quite so,' repeated Lake, softly, taking the thin, neatly folded piece
of paper which Larkin, with a sad inclination of his body, handed to him.

Lake, under the 'lawyer's' small, vigilant eyes, quietly read Mark
Wylder's awful threatenings through, twice over, and Larkin was not quite
sure whether there was any change of countenance to speak of as he did
so.

'This is dated the 29th,' said Lake, in the same quiet tone; 'perhaps you
will be so good as to write a line across it, stating the date of your
handing it to me.'

'I--of course--I can see no objection. I may mention, I suppose, that I
do so at your request.'

And Larkin made a neat little endorsement to that effect, and he felt
relieved. The hyaena certainly was not showing fight.

'And now, Mr. Larkin, you'll admit, I think, that I've exhibited no
ill-temper, much less violence, under the provocation of that note.'

'Certainly; none whatever, Captain Lake.'

'And you will therefore perceive that whatever I now say, speaking in