Then Mrs Hamilton, who had come back into the room, spoke for the first time.
“What’s the good of all this talk, Jack? Make haste and get it all over.”
Just then, in his extremity, an idea came into Smythe’s mind, and again he began to hope.
“Stop,” he said. “Why kill me? I have money in the bank. Spare me, and I will write a cheque for five hundred.”
“It’s risky for me,” said Captain Hamilton. “Still, a little ready comes in handy. I will take a thou.”
With a very shaky hand Smythe wrote out the cheque for the amount asked for, the Captain still holding the revolver up to his head. Smythe handed over the cheque.
“Now I can go, I suppose?” he said, making for the door.
“Not yet,” said the other. “Get the paper, Jen. Now write out a note to me, enclosing the cheque for a card debt,” he added, as his wife took down some paper and placed it before their guest. Smythe wrote the letter he required.
“That will do. Now write to Jen, sending her the diamonds.”
“What am I to say?” said Smythe.