"In collusion," said Mr. Boyd, supplying it in accordance with his humour to place the worst construction upon the interview. "In league to rob me. A fair and reasonable suspicion which the explanation I have dragged out of you does not remove. Have you anything more to say?"
"Nothing more," replied Abel Death, in a hopeless tone.
"Take up your money. You can go."
"But you will withdraw the discharge, sir--I entreat you to withdraw it. Think what it means to me--what it means to my family! Starvation, sir, starvation!" He wrung his hands in despair.
"You have lied deliberately to me. Go--go and starve!--and never set foot inside this house again."
Convinced now that any farther appeal would be unavailing, the look of misery in Abel Death's face changed to one of fury. He made a step towards the man who had doomed him to ruin, and who, thus threatened, held the revolver straight before him, with his finger on the trigger. Muttering, "God help me!" Abel Death took up the few shillings which Mr. Boyd had placed upon the table, and backed out of the room, followed by his employer, still armed with the revolver, and holding a candle above his head. Thus they went down to the street door, which Abel Death slowly opened. But before he left the house he turned and said,
"Do you believe in God?"
"No," snarled Mr. Boyd, "I believe in nothing!"
"Men have been struck dead for less," said Abel Death, pointing a shaking finger at him. "Remember that, Samuel Boyd!" And went his way with misery in his heart.
Mr. Boyd, undisturbed and with a smile of self-approval on his lips, closed the door and put up the chain. Then, with deliberate steps, and with no misgivings, he returned to his room.