"I did, and I do."
Something in the fellow's tone made Jack a trifle uneasy, and he considered within himself for a moment what he had better do. That the rascal had made up his mind to be nasty was evident, and when Jack thought that the gun, poor as it was, was destroyed, though through no fault of his own, he thought perhaps he might give his old jackal something as a solatium.
"All right, Raffles! I'll pay you for what I owe you now, and I'll give you a sovereign for the gun. I'll send you that in a day or two. I've no more money with me now."
"That ain't the bill. I want this 'ere bill paid."
"'This 'ere bill' is sheer rot!" retorted Jack.
"Rot or not, it's what I want from you. You pay up that seven odd, or it will be the worse for you. What is seven odd to a young gent like you? Aren't you all millionaires at St. Amory's?"
"Not by a long chalk."
"Well, I don't want to be unpleasant, my buck, but if you won't pay over I'll show you up."
"Show me up, you beast—what do you mean?"
"I'll write to Corker and blow the gaff."