“That long-lost box of guineas come to light at last!” he exclaimed. “What an extraordinary thing! And Mr. Dene is suspected of—— Why, good gracious!” he broke off in fresh astonishment, “I have just seen him with a guinea in his pocket!”
“Seen a guinea in Sam Dene’s pocket!” cried Captain Cockermuth, turning yellow as the gas-flame under which they were standing.
“Why yes, I have. It was——”
But there Mr. Badger came to a full stop. It had suddenly struck him that he might be doing harm to Sam Dene; and the rule of his life was not to harm any one, or to make an enemy, if his own interest allowed him to avoid it.
“I won’t say any more, Captain Cockermuth. It is no business of mine.”
But here Mr. Sergeant Dutton came to the fore. “You must, Badger. You must say all you know that bears upon the affair; the law demands it of you. What about the guinea?”
“Well, if you force me to do so—putting it in that way,” returned the man, driven into a corner.
Mr. Badger had just been down to Edgar Street to pay another visit to Sam. Not to torment him; he did not do that more than he could help; but simply to say he would accept smaller instalments for the liquidation of his debt—which of course meant giving to Sam a longer time to pay the whole in. This evening he was admitted to Sam’s sitting-room. During their short conversation, Sam, searching impatiently for a pencil in his waistcoat-pocket, drew out with it a few coins in silver money, and one coin in gold. Mr. Badger’s hungry eyes saw that it was an old guinea. These particulars he now imparted.
“What did he say about the guinea?” cried Captain Cockermuth, his own eyes glaring.