"By the way, you are the very man I wanted to see," he said grimly. "I want you to sign a note for that twenty thousand I lost by you when you insisted on my holding that stock."
Rimmon's jaw fell. "That you held for me? Sign a note! Twenty-six thousand!"
"Yes. Don't pretend innocence--not on me. Save that for the pulpit. I know you," said the other, with a chilling laugh.
"But you were to carry that. That was a part of our agreement. Why, twenty thousand would take everything I have."
"Don't play that on me," said Wickersham, coldly. "It won't work. You can make it up when you get your widow."
Rimmon groaned helplessly.
"Come; there is the note. Sign."
Rimmon began to expostulate, and finally refused pointblank to sign. Wickersham gazed at him with amusement.
"You sign that, or I will serve suit on you in a half-hour, and we will see how the Rev. Mr. Rimmmon stands when my lawyers are through with him. You will believe in hell then, sure enough."
"You won't dare do it. Your marriage would come out. Mrs. Lancaster would--"