“I tell you I haven’t got a penny. You struck me down after you had taken it from the safe.”
“It’s a lie!” cried Harry fiercely. “I was not going to do the accursed work, and I did not strike you down.”
“Then look here,” cried Pradelle, pointing to his injured head.
“I know nothing about that. You have the money, and I’ll have it before I leave this room.”
“You’ll be clever then,” sneered Pradelle.
“Will you give it me?”
“No. How can I?”
“Don’t make me wild, Pradelle, for I’m desperate enough without that. Give me those notes, or, by all that’s holy, I’ll go straight to the police and charge you with the theft.”
“Do,” said Pradelle, “if you dare.”
The man’s coolness staggered Harry for the moment.