He came to the interview still undecided what he should do. But,
meantime, he had gone to a lawyer and made his will, leaving his little
all to Julia Dodd: a bad sign this; looked like compounding with his
awakened conscience.
It was a dark and gusty night. Very few people were about. Skinner waited
a little while, and shivered, for his avarice had postponed the purchase
of a greatcoat until Christmas Day. At last, when the coast seemed clear,
Mr. Hardie emerged from a side street. Skinner put his hand to his bosom.
They met. Mr. Hardie said quietly, "I must ask you, just for form, to
show me you have the Receipt."
"Of course, sir; but not so near, please: no snatching, if I know it."
"You are wonderfully suspicious," said Mr. Hardie, trying to smile.
Skinner looked, and saw by the lamplight he was deadly pale. "Keep your
distance a moment, sir," said he, and, on Mr. Hardie's complying, took
the Receipt out, and held it under the lamp.
Instantly Mr. Hardie drew a life-preserver, and sprang on him with a
savage curse--and uttered a shriek of dismay, for he was met by the long
shiny barrel of a horse-pistol, that Skinner drew from his bosom, and
levelled full in the haggard face that came at him.
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