rest--oh, fifty in fives, the rest in
ones."

She drove away, and in an hour gave the notes to John in an envelope,
asking no questions. He set off in the afternoon to give Josiah his
money.

Meanwhile on this Monday morning a strange scene in this drama was being
acted in Josiah's little shop. He was at the door watchful and thinking
of his past and too doubtful future, when he saw Peter Lamb pause near
by. The man, fresh from the terrors of delirium tremens, had used the
gift of Grey with some prudence and was in the happy condition of slight
alcoholic excitement and good-humour.

"Halloa!" cried Peter. "How are you? I'm going to the mills to see my
girl--want you to shave me--got over my joke; funny, wasn't it?"

A sudden ferocious desire awoke in the good-natured barber--some
long-past inheritance of African lust for the blood of an enemy.

"Don't like to kiss with a rough beard," said Peter. "I'll pay--got
money--now."

"Come in," said Josiah. "Set down. I'll shut the door--it's a cold
morning."

He spread the lather over the red face. "Head back a bit--that's right
comfortable now, isn't it?"

"All right--go ahead."

Josiah took his razor. "Now, then," he said, as he set a big strong
hand on the man's forehead, "if you move, I'll cut your throat--keep
quiet--don't you move. You told I was a slave--you ruined my life--I
never did you no harm--I'd kill you just as easy as that--" and he
drew the blunt cold back of the razor across the hairy neck.

"My God!--I--" The man shuddered.

"Keep still--or you are a dead man."

"Oh, Lord!" groaned Lamb.

"I would kill you, but I don't want to be hanged. God will take care
of you--He is sure. Some day you will do some wickedness worse than
this--you just look at me."

There was for Peter fearful fascination in the black face of the man who
stood looking down at him, the jaw moving, the white teeth showing, the
eyes red, the face twitching with half-suppressed passion.

"Answer me now--and by God, if you lie, I will kill you. You set some one
on me? Quick now!"

"I did."

"Who was it? No lies, now!"

"Mr. George Grey." Then Josiah fully realized his danger.

"Why did you?"

"You wouldn't help me to get whisky."

"Well, was that all?"

"You went and got the preacher to set Mr. Penhallow on me. He gave me the
devil."

"My God, was that all? You've ruined me for a drink of whisky--you've got
your revenge. I'm lost--lost. Your day will come--I'll