Dibble looked at Mr. Gibbs for explanation, but quite prepared in his own mind to buy peace at home at any sacrifice.
“You must put this purse secretly into Paul Somerton’s box, in his bedroom.”
Dibble looked puzzled, and Gibbs fixed him with his fishy eye.
“It is a very simple thing. Take it without examination, and find an opportunity to-night to put it carefully in the lowest corner, underneath his clothes or papers, or whatever else he has in his box.”
“Yes, it be simple,” said Dibble, patting his forehead, and looking at his boots; “it be very simple, that’s true.”
“Do it, and to-morrow morning give me your shares and I give you five hundred pounds; here is one hundred on account to-night, in proof of my sincerity.”
“Oh, that be all right, sir—I can trust to what you says; but what be the meaning of this business about the purse?”
“I like your question—nothing like being open and straightforward with each other. That’s my motto,” said Gibbs.
“And it be a good un, too,” said Thomas.
“Paul Somerton has done me a serious injury, and I am determined to punish him; he is a conceited, proud young fellow, and I mean to take him down.”