eous indignation seemed to have unnerved him.
"Don't leave out your private mark or change your signature. We can burn you just as easily to-morrow, and we will," said I coldly.
The King of Finance shook his head. "Honest John Driver doesn't play dirty tricks like that," he said firmly.
"He'd much better not," said I.
He made the check payable to Bottiger, and Bottiger put it in his pocket. The King of Finance kept his eyes glued to it till it vanished from sight, then he sighed heavily.
And now, having finished our day's work, we thought of bed. There were two double-bedded rooms in the cottage, and the linen had been aired against our coming by a neighboring cottager. Angel bade us good-night, and went off to one room; Chelubai and Bottiger, having tossed with me for the order in which we should keep our turns of watch over Driver, went off to the other. Driver's legs were still bound; I helped him on to the sofa and threw a rug over him. He composed himself to rest; but for a while he sighed and sighed, still teeming with emotion, apparently at having had to disgorge a percentage of his plunder of the British Public. Then he snored. I amused myself with a pipe and a novel for a couple of hours; then I awoke Chelubai, and, leaving him on guard, went to bed.
