“He is only doing himself harm,” suggested Mr. Grahame.
“And nobody else no good,” added Chewkle.
“He certainly is not acting in a manner to entitle him to consideration,” observed Mr. Grahame, reflectively.
“Not a bit of it,” responded Mr. Chewkle; “nothen is to be got out of ’is sort; you may as well try to get butter out o’ flint; so if I was you, sir, I should just say nothen to anybody—but me—and go an’ do it at once—now’s a good time—by-and-by never comes.”
Mr. Grahame grew cold and white, and his teeth chattered. FORGERY!
It was a tremendous act.
The punishment, penal servitude for life.
How the words rang in his ears!
A moment more, and the threat of Nathan Gomer boomed through his brain like the minute guns of a ship of war announcing an approaching execution. “Issue process for the recovery of the money now due.”
He shivered as though he had come out of a cold spring bath.