the sinister expression which a
consciousness of his advantage over the stranger caused him to feel in
his turn. The grin, besides, which he gave him, after he had thrown out
these hints, had something of reprisal in it; and, to tell the truth,
the stranger's face now became as blank and lugubrious as Anthony's had
been before.

"If I don't mistake," he continued--for the other was too much
astonished to reply, "if I don't mistake, there's a couple o' bits of
paper that would stand your friend, if you could lay your claws upon
them."

"Whether they could, or could not, is no affair of yours, my good sir,"
replied the stranger, rising and getting his hat; "and whether I have
changed my mind on the subject you hint at is a matter known only to
myself. I wish you good-day."

"I beg your pardon," said Anthony, probably satisfied with the fact of
his having turned the tables and had his revenge on the stranger; "I beg
your pardon, sir. Let us part friends, at all events. Set in case now--"

"I will listen to none of those half sentences. You cannot possibly
speak out, I see; in fact, you are tongue-tied by the cord of your evil
fate. Upon no subject can you speak until it is too late."

"God direct me now!" exclaimed Corbet to himself. "I think the time is
come; for, unless I relieve my conscience before I'm called--James
he tould me the other night--Well, sir," he proceeded, "listen. If I
befriend you, will you promise to stand my friend, if I should get into
any difficulty?"

"I will enter into no compromise of the kind with you," said the other.
"If you are about to do an act of justice, you ought to do it without
conditions; and if you possess any document that is of value to another,
and of none to yourself, and yet will not restore it to the proper
owner, you are grossly dishonest, and capable of all that will soon,
I trust, be established against you and your employers. Good-by, Mr.
Corbet."

"Aisy, sir, aisy," said the tenacious and vacillating old knave. "Aisy,
I say. You will be generous, at any rate; for you know their value.
How much will you give me for the papers I spake of--that is, in case I
could get them for you?"

"Not sixpence. A friend has just returned from France, who--no," thought
he, "I will not state a falsehood--Good-day, Mr. Corbet; I am wasting my
time."

"One minute, sir--one minute. It may be worth your while."

"Yes; but you trifle with me by these reluctant and penurious
commun