"Ah—he comes across. Good. Where is it?"
"In my pocket," said Peter coolly, "but he told me to tell you first not to forget the blood on the knife, Hawk Kennedy."
The man recoiled a step.
"The blood on the knife," he muttered. And then, "McGuire asked you to say that?"
"Yes."
"Anything else?"
"No. That's all."
Another silence and then he demand in a rough tone,
"Well, give me the money!"
Impolite beggar! What was there about this shadow that suggested to Peter the thought that this whole incident had happened before? That this man belonged to another life that Peter had lived? Peter shrugged off the illusion, fumbled in his pocket and produced the envelope containing the bills.