“Doesn’t it mean gaol if I’m caught?”
“Nonsense, man. How can you be caught? It’s I who take the risk. I am responsible for the delivery of the mails, and if anything goes wrong it’s I will have to suffer. You do your little bit, and I’ll see that you get off scot-free. Here’s my hand on it.”
The merchant held out his flabby hand, and Tresco took it.
“It’s a bargain?”
“It’s a bargain,” said Tresco.
Crookenden reached for his cheque book, and wrote out a cheque for fifty pounds.
“Take this cheque to the bank, and cash it.”
Tresco took the bit of signed paper, and looked at it.
“Fifty?” he remarked. “I said a hundred down.”
“You shall have the balance when you have done the work.”