But he stopped and listened to him. The words were
few, but his own face changed as he heard them.
'I have it about me,' said Jonas, putting his hands to his throat, as
though whatever he referred to were hidden in his neckerchief. 'How
should you know of it? How could you know? A hundred pound for only five
minutes in the next room! The time's passing. Speak!'
'It would be more--more creditable to the family,' observed Slyme, with
trembling lips. 'I wish you hadn't told me half so much. Less would have
served your purpose. You might have kept it to yourself.'
'A hundred pound for only five minutes in the next room! Speak!' cried
Jonas, desperately.
He took the purse. Jonas, with a wild unsteady step, retreated to the
door in the glass partition.
'Stop!' cried Slyme, catching at his skirts. 'I don't know about this.
Yet it must end so at last. Are you guilty?'
'Yes!' said Jonas.
'Are the proofs as they were told just now?'
'Yes!' said Jonas.
'Will you--will you engage to say a--a Prayer, now, or something of that
sort?' faltered Slyme.
Jonas broke from him without replying, and closed the door between them.
Pages:
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486