“And now,” said the latter, after he had separated the jewels into two nearly equal parts, and drawn one of them nearer to himself; “and now,” said he, “everything in this world has to be paid for, and some things sweetly. You must know, Mr. Hartley, if such be your name, that I am a man of a very easy temper, and good-nature has been my stumbling-block from first to last. I could pocket the whole of these pretty pebbles, if I chose, and I should like to see you dare to say a word; but I think I must have taken a liking to you; for I declare I have not the heart to shave you so close. So, do you see, in pure kind feeling, I propose that we divide; and these,” indicating the two heaps, “are the proportions that seem to me just and friendly. Do you see any objection, Mr. Hartley, may I ask? I am not the man to stick upon a brooch.”
“But, sir,” cried Harry, “what you propose to me is impossible. The jewels are not mine, and I cannot share what is another’s, no matter with whom, nor in what proportions.”
“They are not yours, are they not?” returned Raeburn. “And you could not share them with anybody, couldn’t you? Well, now, that is what I call a pity; for here am I obliged to take you to the station. The police—think of that,” he continued; “think of the disgrace for your respectable parents; think,” he went on, taking Harry by the wrist; “think of the Colonies and the Day of Judgment.”
“I cannot help it,” wailed Harry. “It is not my fault. You will not come with me to Eaton Place.”
“No,” replied the man; “I will not, that is certain. And I mean to divide these playthings with you here.”
And so saying he applied a sudden and severe torsion to the lad’s wrist.
Harry could not suppress a scream, and the perspiration burst forth upon his face. Perhaps pain and terror quickened his intelligence, but certainly at that moment the whole business flashed across him in another light; and he saw that there was nothing for it but to accede to the ruffian’s proposal, and trust to find the house and force him to disgorge, under more favourable circumstances, and when he himself was clear from all suspicion.
“I agree,” he said.
“There is a lamb,” sneered the gardener. “I thought you would recognise your interests at last. This bandbox,” he continued, “I shall burn with my rubbish; it is a thing that curious folk might recognise; and as for you, scrape up your gaieties and put them in your pocket.”
Harry proceeded to obey, Raeburn watching him, and every now and again, his greed rekindled by some bright scintillation, abstracting another jewel from the secretary’s share, and adding it to his own.