"I must have it, or you get nothing from me," cried Auriol.
"Here's a bit o' paper as come from the pocket-book," said Ginger. "Would you like to hear wot's written upon it? Here are the words: 'How many crimes have I to reproach myself with! How many innocents have I destroyed! And all owing to my fatal compact with——'"
"Give me that paper," cried Auriol, rising, and attempting to snatch it from the dog-fancier.
Just as this moment, and while Ginger retreated from Auriol, the door behind him was noiselessly opened—a hand was thrust through the chink—and the paper was snatched from his grasp. Before Ginger could turn round, the door was closed again.
"Halloa! What's that?" he cried. "The paper's gone!"
"The hand again!" cried the Sandman, in alarm. "See who's in the passage—open the door—quick!"
Ginger cautiously complied, and, peeping forth, said—
"There's no one there. It must be the devil. I'll have nuffin' more to do wi' the matter."
"Poh! poh! don't be so chicken-'arted!" cried the Tinker. "But come what may, the gemman shan't stir till he undertakes to pay us three hundred pounds."
"You seek to frighten me in vain, villain," cried Auriol, upon whom the recent occurrence had not been lost. "I have but to stamp my foot, and I can instantly bring assistance that shall overpower you."