“Anything in the box, George?” asked Robinson.
“Nothing but a little money. Here is a sovereign—look. And here is a bank-note.”
“A five-pound note?”
“Yes—no; it is more than that a good deal. It is for fifty pounds, Tom.”
“What?”
“A fifty-pound note, I tell you.”
“Jem!”
“Captain!”
A most expressive look was exchanged between these two, and by one impulse they both seized the stock of the gun that was in the dead man's hand. They lifted it, and yes—two fingers were wanting on the right hand.
“Come away from that fellow,” cried Robinson to George. “Let him lie.”