'I couldn't hope to disgrace him into
anything when you have shot so far ahead of me though. I forgot that.'
Jonas repeated the same look and gesture.
'Jack!' said Slyme.
'Hallo!' returned his man.
'Go down to the door, ready for the coach. Call out when it comes. I'd
rather have you there. Now then,' he added, turning hastily to Jonas,
when the man was gone. 'What's the matter?'
Jonas essayed to rise.
'Stop a bit,' said Slyme. 'It's not so easy when your wrists are tight
together. Now then! Up! What is it?'
'Put your hand in my pocket. Here! The breast pocket, on the left!' said
Jonas.
He did so; and drew out a purse.
'There's a hundred pound in it,' said Jonas, whose words were almost
unintelligible; as his face, in its pallor and agony, was scarcely
human.
Slyme looked at him; gave it into his hands; and shook his head.
'I can't. I daren't. I couldn't if I dared. Those fellows below--'
'Escape's impossible,' said Jonas. 'I know it. One hundred pound for
only five minutes in the next room!'
'What to do?' he asked.
The face of his prisoner as he advanced to whisper in his ear, made him
recoil involuntarily.
Pages:
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485