ughed most disagreeably; and Caldigate, turning
over various ideas rapidly in his mind, thought that a good deed would
be done if a man so void of feeling could be drowned beneath the waters
of the black deep dike which was slowly creeping along by their side.
'Any way you was lucky,--infernally lucky.'

'You did not do badly yourself. When I first reached Nobble you had the
name of more money than I ever made.'

'Who's got it now? Eh, Caldigate! who's got my money now?'

'It would take a clever man to tell that.'

'It don't take much cleverness for me to tell who has got more of it nor
anybody else, and it don't take much cleverness for me to tell that I
ain't got none of it left myself;--none of it, Caldigate. Not a d-----
hundred pounds!' This he said with terrible energy.

'I'm sorry it's so bad as that with you, Crinkett.'

'Yes;--you is sorry, I daresay. You've acted sorry in all you said and
done since I got taken in last by that ---- mine;--haven't you? Well;--I
have got just a few hundreds; what I could scrape together to bring me
and a few others as might be wanted over to England. There's Jack
Adamson with me and ---- just two more. They may be wanted, squire.'

The attack now was being commenced, and how was he to repel it, or to
answer it? Only on one ground had he received from Robert Bolton a
decided opinion. Under no circumstances was he to give money to these
persons. Were he to be guilty of that weakness he would have delivered
himself over into their hands. And not only did he put implicit trust in
the sagacity of Robert Bolton, but he himself knew enough of the world's
opinion on such a matter to be aware that a man who has allowed himself
to be frightened out of money is supposed to have acknowledged some
terrible delinquency. He had been very clear in his mind when that
letter came from Euphemia Smith that he would not now make any rebate.
Till that attack had come, it might have been open to him to be
generous;--but not now. And yet when this man spoke of his own loss,
and reminded him of his wealth;--when Crinkett threw it in his teeth
that by a happy chance he had feathered his nest with the spoils taken
from the wretched man himself,--then he wished that it was in his power
to give back something.

'Is that said as a threat?' he asked, looking round on his companion,
and resolving that he would be brave.

'That's as you take it, squire. We don't want to threaten nothing.'

'Because i