“Enemy of a gent that pays me a thousand pounds? Nonsense! Why should I? We are in the same boat: behave like a man, and you know you have nothing to fear from me: but I will--not--go halves in a theft for nothing: would _you?_ Come, how is it to be, peace or war? Will you be content with thirteen thousand pounds that don't belong to you, not a shilling of it, or will you go to jail a felon, and lose it every penny?” Mr. Hardie groaned aloud, but there was no help for it. Skinner was on sale: and _must_ be bought. He took out two notes for five hundred pounds each, and laid them on the table, after taking their numbers. Skinner's eyes glistened: “Thank you, sir,” said he. He put them in his pocket. Then he said quietly, “Now you have taken the numbers, sir; so I'll trouble you for a line to make me safe against the criminal law. You are a deep one; you might say I robbed you.” “That is a very unworthy suspicion, Skinner, and a childish one.” “Oh, it is diamond cut diamond. A single line, sir, just to say that in return for his faithful services, you have given Noah Skinner two notes for L. 500, Nos. 1084 and 85.” “With all my heart--on your giving me a receipt for them.” It was Skinner's turn to hesitate. After reflecting, however, on all the possible consequences, he saw nothing to fear; so he consented. The business completed, a magic change took place in the little clerk. “Now we are friends again, sir: and I'll give you a piece of advice. Mind your eye with Mr. Alfred: he is down on us.” “What do you mean?” inquired Mr. Hardie with ill-disguised anxiety.