"I am obliged to you, Sampson," he said, after a pause.
"What will you do?" asked the detective, with some curiosity. "I see this is a bit of a blow, and I am not surprised; but what will you do?"
"I can't tell. I must think things over. Do you say you have the confession in your pocket?"
"Yes; in my breast pocket. Here is the envelope sticking out above my coat."
"Give it to me," said Jim, stretching out his big hand.
"Not I. That's my affair. I can make use of this. Why, I could hold a thing of this sort over the head of your fair bride, and blackmail her, if necessary."
"No, no, Sampson; you are not a ruffian, of that sort."
George Sampson suddenly changed his manner.
"As far as you are concerned, Jim, I am no ruffian," he said. "To tell the plain truth, I have always liked yer, and I'll act by you as straight as a die in this matter. If you never do anything else, you've saved me from being the husband of that gel, and I'll be thankful to you for it to my dying day. But for the Lord's sake, don't you put yourself into the noose now. You can't be so mad, surely."
"Leave me for to-night, Sampson," said Jim in a voice of entreaty. "I can't say anything, I must think. Leave me for to-night."