"I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. "Speak plainly."
"Let this speak for me," said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards him. "You can generally understand that language. There's more than I undertook to bring. It has been purchased by blood!"
"What! have you cut old Wood's throat?" asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag.
"If I had, you'd not have seen me here," replied Jack, sullenly. "The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife."
"It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. "She wouldn't let me go. I did it in self-defence."
"I care not why you did it," said Jack, sternly. "We work together no more."
"Come, come, Captain," remonstrated Blueskin. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. You know as well as I do that it was accident."
"Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine."
"And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are," muttered Blueskin;—"to be turned off at a moment's notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. It's too hard. Think better of it."
"My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night."