"And the little business, Tom," inquired the old man,—"did it turn out worth the trouble? The advertisement says——" "Hark'ee, Master Death," exclaimed Rainford, firmly; "that business does not regard you. Our compact dates from this morning——" "Oh! very good—very good!" interrupted Old Death in a surly tone. "Be it as you say: but remember—if you _do_ get into any trouble on account of this, you mustn't expect me to help you out of it." "Neither do I," answered Tom. "However, I am a generous chap in my way, and I don't mind yielding to you in this instance; for you must suppose that I can see your drift plain enough. The advertisement says '_A purse containing a Bank-note for fifty pounds and eleven sovereigns, and a reticule containing a purse in which there were three ten-pound notes and sixteen sovereigns._' This is accurate enough. The reticule I flung away: the two purses I kept—and here they are." Thus speaking, Tom Rainford threw upon the table the objects last mentioned. Old Death's eyes glared with a kind of savage joy as they caught a glimpse of the yellow metal and the flimsy paper through the net-work of the purses. "Pretty things—pretty things!" he muttered between his toothless gums. "I think you'll do well, Tom." "And I am sure I shall. But turn the money out on the table: you care more about the handling of it than I do." Old Death "grinned horribly a ghastly smile," and lost no time in obeying the hint conveyed. "Twenty-seven golden boys, and eighty pounds in Bank-notes," said the hideous man. "The gold is yours—that's part of our conditions: half the value of the Bank-notes is mine, for the risk and trouble in cashing them—that's also part and parcel of our conditions. So if I give you forty sovereigns—forty golden sovereigns, Tom—we shall be square." "Just so," carelessly observed Rain. Old Death produced a greasy leather bag from a pocket in the breast of his grey-coat, and counted thence the forty sovereigns on which he had laid such emphasis. Tom Rain thrust the coin into his breeches' pocket without reckoning it; while his companion first secured the Bank-notes in the greasy bag, and then threw the two purses into the fire. "You're a good fellow, Tom—a generous-hearted fellow—and I'm much pleased with you," said the old man. "I shall leave you now, as I have some little trifling matters to attend to in another part of the town. When you want me, you know where to leave a message." "All right," ejaculated Tom Rainford, who did not appear over anxious to detain his new friend. They accordingly separated—Old Death taking his departure, and the other remaining behind to await the return of his messenger. It is necessary to state that when Old Death quitted the public-house, he was joined a few paces up the street by a sharp-looking, ill-clad youth of about fifteen, whose pale countenance, bright eyes, and restless glances denoted mental activity struggling against bad health.