"You kept this secret up your sleeve to play it for all it was worth in a country where it would be worth more than it was in the back-blocks? That's all I mean."
"Well, if I did, that's my own affair."
"Oh, certainly. Only you came here at your own proposal in order, I suppose, to sell this secret to me?"
"Yes, to sell it."
"Then, you see, it is more or less my affair as well."
"It may be," said Abel, doggedly. And his face was very evil as he struck a match to relight his pipe; but before the flame Langholm had stepped backward, with his stick, that no superfluous light might fall upon his thin wrists and half-filled sleeves.
"You are sure," he pursued, "that Mr. Minchin was in possession of this precious secret at the time of his death?"
"I told it him myself. It isn't one you would forget."
"Was it one that he could prove?"
"Easily."