"Two thousand five hundred pounds in gold."
"A pretty little fortune. How do you mean to divide the odd hundreds?"
"I want them for a particular purpose. There is a thousand; I think you ought to be satisfied. It was my bullet that unlocked the box, when I brought the old man down."
"You don't mean to say, that you intend to appropriate five hundred pounds for the mere act of shooting the old dog, when I ran as much risk as you?"
"Sit down, Bill;" for the smuggler had sprung to his feet, and stood before his colleague in a menacing attitude; "and don't look so fierce. It won't do for you and I to quarrel. I meant it for a marriage portion for Mary; surely you don't wish to rob her?"
"It's just the same as appropriating it to yourself," growled the villain; "you know that she can't keep anything from you."
"Mary, my pet," said Godfrey, now half intoxicated with the brandy he had drank, taking up a handful of the money and going up to the bed, "I heard you say a few days ago that you wanted a new frock; look, here is plenty of money to buy you a score of smart dresses. Will you not give me a kiss for all this gold?"
The girl turned her wide wandering eyes upon him, glanced at his hands, and uttered a wild scream.
"Why, Mary! what the deuce ails you?"
"What's that upon your hands, Godfrey? What's that upon your hands? It's blood—blood! Oh, take it away! don't bring to me the price of blood!"