“Business is business,” said Mr. Gibbs; “I will take the shares from you, and here is a cheque for five hundred pounds.” “God bless ’e, God bless ’e!” began Dibble, in an ecstasy of delight. “Stop a little; there is a small condition,” said Mr. Gibbs, placing his hand upon a purse which he laid upon the table. Dibble looked at Mr. Gibbs for explanation, but quite prepared in his own mind to buy peace at home at any sacrifice. “You must put this purse secretly into Paul Somerton’s box, in his bedroom.” Dibble looked puzzled, and Gibbs fixed him with his fishy eye. “It is a very simple thing. Take it without examination, and find an opportunity to-night to put it carefully in the lowest corner, underneath his clothes or papers, or whatever else he has in his box.” “Yes, it be simple,” said Dibble, patting his forehead, and looking at his boots; “it be very simple, that’s true.” “Do it, and to-morrow morning give me your shares and I give you five hundred pounds; here is one hundred on account to-night, in proof of my sincerity.” “Oh, that be all right, sir--I can trust to what you says; but what be the meaning of this business about the purse?” “I like your question--nothing like being open and straightforward with each other. That’s my motto,” said Gibbs. “And it be a good un, too,” said Thomas. “Paul Somerton has done me a serious injury, and I am determined to punish him; he is a conceited, proud young fellow, and I mean to take him down.” “He be proud, that’s true,” said Dibble, remembering how Paul had dropped his companionship of late. “I hate and detest him, he is a thief and a scoundrel; and I could have him transported if I liked.” “Could you now?” said Dibble, staring in amazement at Mr. Gibbs, who, despite his efforts to appear calm, had clenched his fist, and looked particularly ugly. “I shall punish him by means of this purse. If you do what I require you will have your five hundred pounds, and have no liability beyond it; and you will be able to live comfortably and happily again with Mrs. Dibble. And if you don’t, you will have fifteen hundred pounds to pay beyond the five hundred; you will be sold up and turned out of house and home, and be done up root and branch.” Dibble groaned aloud at this picture, and jumping from his seat, said, “Give me the purse, give it me; I’ll do it.” “And you swear on your oath--go down on your knees--there, that will do; now you swear that whatever may take place you will never confess that you know anything about the purse, or ever saw it in your life before.” “I swear it all,” said Dibble. “So help you, heaven!” said Gibbs, holding his hand aloft, and Dibble repeated the imprecation.