"
An agony went across Mr. Hardie's great face, and seemed to furrow as it
ran.
"Not but what you are all right, sir," resumed his little cat-like
tormentor, letting him go a little way, to nail him again by-and-bye:
"You have cooked the books in time: and Cocker was a fool to you. 'Twill
be all down in black and white. Great sacrifices: no reserve: creditors
take everything; dividend fourpence in the pound, furniture of house and
bank, Mrs. Hardie's portrait, and down to the coalscuttle. Bankrupt saves
nothing but his honour, and--the six thousand pounds or so he has
stitched into his old great-coat: hands his new one to the official
assignees, like an honest man."
Hardie uttered something between a growl and a moan.
"Now comes the per contra: poor little despised Noah Skinner has kept
genuine books while you have been preparing false ones. I took the real
figures home every afternoon on loose leaves, and bound 'em: and very
curious they will read in court alongside of yours. I did it for
amusement o' nights: I'm so solitary, and so fond of figures. I must try
and turn them to profit; for I'm out of place now in my old age.
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