His tone was that of a demand, rather than a suggestion. He had immediately divined that Haywood had some secret object in view, and was evidently resolved not to sell himself too cheaply.
Haywood took a look at the man, and read him.
“All right,” he replied. “The money shall be yours. Here are one hundred dollars, and I will give you the balance on Monday.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And mind you keep the secret well.”
“As close as the lips of the dead man in the house, sir.”
“And if you ever want any little service done, Barker, come to me.”
“I will, sir,” replied Barker, grinning significantly, after Haywood’s back was turned.
The two men then separated, having completed their evil compact.
On the morrow, under the solemn Sabbath skies, they were to appear as mourners in the train that was to convey the body that lay in the stricken house to its last resting-place, one bowed in humble grief, as befitted his station, and the other in ostentatious, stately sorrow.