'I don't know why it was, but a sort of a turn came over me and I said, "No."
'"Well," says he, "I'm going to sell a horse, and I expect to be paid to-morrow; you and Glascock must wait for me outside"—I think the name of the village was Merton—I'm not sure, for I never seen it before or since—"and I'll give you some money then."
'"I'll have none," says I.
'"What, no money?" says he. "Come, come."
'"I tell you, Sir, I'll have none," says I. Something, you see, came over me, and I was more determined than ever. I was always afeard of him, but I feared him like Beelzebub now. "I've had enough of your money, Sir; and I tell you what, Mr. Archer, I think 'tis best to end our dealings, and I'd rather, if you please, Sir, never trouble you more."
'"You're a queer dog," says he, with his eye fast on me, and musing for a while—as if he could see into my brain, and was diverted by what he found there;—"you're a queer dog, Irons. Glascock knows the world better, you see; and as you and he are going up to London together, and I must give the poor devil a lift, I'll meet you at the other side of Merton, beyond the quarry—you know the moor—on Friday evening, after dark—say seven o'clock—we must be quiet, you know, or people will be talking."
'Well, Sir, we met him, sure enough, at the time and place.'