He again made a gesture of impatience—and again controlled himself. “If _I_ could lend him the money it ’ud be different,” he went on. “He’d give me what they call a bill of sale, and I should come in before the other creditors when he crashed——” Nancy smiled, and the frown deepened on Inman’s face as he observed it. “Now we’re coming to it,” she said. “You want me to give _you_ a cheque, I suppose?” He shook his head. “That wouldn’t do; it ’ud be too patent. Baldwin thinks I’ve five hundred o’ my own—my life’s savings!” he added with a short laugh, looking meaningly into Nancy’s face. She knew at once what he meant, though she had forgotten all about the hidden store; but she purposely held her peace. “There’s that five hunderd in the bag,” he whispered. “It ’ud be better out o’ the way. Nobody but us two knows it’s there, and it ’ud be gaol for us both if they did——” “You want me to let you have it to lend Baldwin?” she asked. “You’re welcome to it for aught I care, and him too.” It was the answer he had led up to; but the note of unconcern stirred his anger. He knew why she was so listless; it was because Jagger was lost to her, of course, and he added this to the list of memories that he was keeping green for the hour of vengeance. With a curt acknowledgment he went away and sought his master. He would have taken the money without his wife’s leave if it had seemed to be the better course; but there was a certain satisfaction in making her accessory to the fact—one never knew that it might not prove convenient. Baldwin had swallowed his gruel at last, and the bill of sale had been prepared and was in the safe. All that was necessary now was to produce the money and complete the transaction, and for that purpose a clerk from the lawyer’s office in Airlee was to attend the next day. “It’ll be in gold,” he said to Baldwin, as he sat down in the spare chair and half filled his glass with whisky and water. “Gold tells no tales and leaves no traces, but it had best be banked sharp.” Baldwin looked up stupidly. “Who’re you learning their business?” he asked savagely. “Do you think I was born in a frost?” “Of course not,” returned Inman humbly, for he was not to be caught off his guard this time; “but it’s a lot o’ money to have lying about in cash, and I should be easier in my mind to know it was banked before I went to Hull.” Baldwin consigned man and gold to an entirely different port and Inman refrained from further recommendations. During the night winter got a grip of the moor, and when morning came the ground was hard and there was the promise of snow. A bitter wind was blowing from the north, and Inman listened to its weird piping with feelings of annoyance and apprehension that revealed themselves in an air of thoughtfulness and a puckered brow. “Confound it all!” he muttered as he turned away from the window and went downstairs.