“What?”
“You don’t suppose a gentleman keeps a hundred pounds always in his pocket, do you?”
“I should,” said the man, grimly, “if I’d got it. Give us a bit o’ paper then to take to the bank to-morrow.”
“Shall I tell the crier to go round and shout that I have given you a hundred pounds for some reason or another? Don’t be a fool, man!”
“Give me notes, then,” said Lannoe.
“Every one of which, if I had them, would be numbered as having been paid to me. No, Lannoe, I have given you my word that I will pay you; and, what is more,” he cried, excitedly, “if—if, I say—you understand? I’ll give you another fifty.”
“Shake hands,” said the man; and Tregenna unwillingly placed his white beringed fingers in the miner’s horny paw, to take them out afterwards red and crushed.
“I’ll trust you, Lannoe, and you must trust me.”
“Right, master,” said the miner. “Then look here. Where—”
“That will do,” said Tregenna. “I want to know nothing. I’ll hear nothing. Come to me some day when you think it wise, and there is the money for you.”