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I know too much to be made an enemy of,
sir--a great deal too much."
At this Mr. Hardie raised his head from his book and eyed his crouching
venomous assailant full in the face, majestically, as one can fancy a
lion rearing his ponderous head, and looking lazily and steadily at a
snake that has just hissed in a corner. Each word of Skinner's was a
barbed icicle to him, yet not a muscle of his close countenance betrayed
his inward suffering.
One thing, however, even he could not master: his blood; it retired from
that stoical cheek to the chilled and foreboding heart; and the sudden
pallor of the resolute face told Skinner his shafts had gone home. "Come,
sir," said he, affecting to mingle good fellowship with his defiance,
"why bundle me off these premises, when you will be bundled off them
yourself before the week is out?"
"You insolent scoundrel! Humph! Explain, Mr. Skinner."
"Ah! what, have I warmed your marble up a bit? Yes, I'll explain. The
bank is rotten, and can't last forty-eight hours."
"Oh, indeed! blighted in a day--by the dismissal of Mr.


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