But he had picked up at the assizes a smattering of the law of evidence; so he coolly tore the letter in pieces. “There now,” said he to himself, “if Hardies do laa me for publishing of this here letter, why they pours their water into a sieve. Ugh!” And with this exclamation he started, and then put his heavy boot on part of the letter, and ground it furtively into the mud; for a light hand had settled on his shoulder, and a keen young face was close to his.
It was Alfred Hardie, who had stolen on him like a cat. “I'm laad,” thought Maxley.
“Maxley, old fellow,” said Alfred, in a voice as coaxing as a woman's, “are you in a good humour?”
“Well, Master, Halfred, sight of you mostly puts me in one, especially after that there strychnine job.”
“Then tell me,” whispered Alfred, his eyes sparkling and his face beaming, “who was that you were talking to just now? Was it?—wasn't it?—who was it?”
CHAPTER XVIII
WHILE Dodd stood lowering in the doorway, he was nevertheless making a great effort to control his agitation.
At last he said in a stern but low voice, in which, however, a quick ear might detect a tremor of agitation: “I have changed my mind, sir: I want my money back.”
At this, though David's face had prepared him, Mr. Hardie's heart sank: but there was no help for it. He said faintly, “Certainly. May I ask——?” and there he stopped; for it was hardly prudent to ask anything.