MR. HARDIE collapsed as if he had been a man inflated, and that touch had punctured him. “Ah!” said he. “Ah!” said Skinner, in a mighty different tone: insolent triumph to wit.

After a pause, Mr. Hardie made an effort and said contemptuously, “The receipt (if any) was flung into the dusthole and carried away. Do you think I have forgotten that?”

“Don’t you believe it, sir,” was the reply. “While you turned your back and sacked the money, I said to myself, ‘Oho, is that the game?’ and nailed the receipt. What a couple of scoundrels we were! I wouldn’t have her know it for all your money. Come, sir, I see its all right; you will shell out sooner than be posted.”

Here Peggy interposed; “Mr. Skinner, be more considerate; my master is really poor just now.”

“That is no reason why I should be insulted and indicted and trampled under foot,” snarled Skinner all in one breath.

“Show me the receipt and take my last shilling, you ungrateful, vindictive viper,” groaned Mr. Hardie.

“Stuff and nonsense, said Skinner. “I’m not a viper; I’m a man of business. Find me five hundred pounds; and I’ll show you the receipt and keep dark. But I can’t afford to give it you for that, of course.”

Skinner triumphed, and made the great man apologise, writhing all the time, and wishing he was a day labourer with Peggy to wife, and fourteen honest shillings a week for his income. Having eaten humble pie, he agreed to meet Skinner next Wednesday at midnight, alone, under a certain lamp on the North Kensington Road: the interval (four days) he required to raise money upon his scrip. Skinner bowed himself out, fawning triumphantly. Mr. Hardie stood in the middle of the room motionless, scowling darkly. Peggy looked at him, and saw some dark and sinister resolve forming in his mind: she divined it, as such women can divine. She laid her hand on his arm, and said softly, “Richard, it’s not worth that.” He started to find his soul read through his body so clearly. He trembled.

But it was only for a moment. “His blood be on his own head,” he snarled. “This is not my seeking. He shall learn what it is to drive Richard Hardie to despair.”

“No, no,” implored Peggy; “there are other countries beside this: why not gather all you have, and cross the water? I’ll follow you to the world’s end, Richard.”

“Mind your own business,” said he fiercely.

She made no reply, but went softly and sat down again, and sewed the buttons on his shirts. Mr. Hardie wrote to Messrs. Heathfield to get Hardie v. Hardie tried as soon as possible.

Meantime came a mental phenomenon: gliding down Sackville Street, victorious Skinner suddenly stopped, and clenched his hands; and his face writhed as if he had received a death-wound. In that instant Remorse had struck him like lightning; and, perhaps, whence comes the lightning. The sweet face and voice that had smiled on him, and cared for his body, and cared for his soul, came to his mind, and knocked at his heart and conscience. He went home miserable with an inward conflict; and it lasted him all the four days; sometimes Remorse got the better, sometimes Avarice. He came to the interview still undecided what he should do. But, meantime, he had gone to a lawyer and made his will, leaving his little all to Julia Dodd: a bad sign this; looked like compounding with his awakened conscience.

It was a dark and gusty night. Very few people were about. Skinner waited a little while, and shivered, for his avarice had postponed the purchase of a greatcoat until Christmas Day. At last, when the coast seemed clear, Mr. Hardie emerged from a side street. Skinner put his hand to his bosom.

They met. Mr. Hardie said quietly, “I must ask you, just for form, to show me you have the Receipt.”

“Of course, sir; but not so near, please: no snatching, if I know it.”

“You are wonderfully suspicious,” said Mr. Hardie, trying to smile.

Skinner looked, and saw by the lamplight he was deadly pale. “Keep your distance a moment, sir,” said he, and, on Mr. Hardie’s complying, took the Receipt out, and held it under the lamp.

Instantly Mr. Hardie drew a life-preserver, and sprang on him with a savage curse — and uttered a shriek of dismay, for he was met by the long shiny barrel of a horse-pistol, that Skinner drew from his bosom, and levelled full in the haggard face that came at him. Mr. Hardie recoiled, crying, “No! no! for Heaven’s sake!”

“What!” cried Skinner, stepping forward and hissing, “do you think I’m such a fool as to meet a thief unarmed? Come, cash up, or I’ll blow you to atoms.”

“No, no, no!” said Mr. Hardie piteously, retreating as Skinner marched on him with long extended pistol. “Skinner,” he stammered, “th-this is n-not b-b-business.”

“Cash up, then; that’s business. Fling the five hundred pounds down, and walk away. Mind it is loaded with two bullets; I’ll make a double entry on your great treacherous carcass.”

“It’s............