incapable, perhaps, of an agreement, and Heaven knows what may depend on our delay!’

He spoke with a really startling earnestness; and at the same time there flashed upon the mind of Challoner the ridiculous jingle which was to serve as password. ‘This may, perhaps, assist you,’ he said, and then, with some embarrassment, ‘“Nigger, nigger, never die.”’

A light of relief broke upon the troubled countenance of the man with the chin-beard. ‘“Black face and shining eye”—give me the letter,’ he panted, in one gasp.

‘Well,’ said Challoner, though still with some reluctance, ‘I suppose I must regard you as the proper recipient; and though I may justly complain of the spirit in which I have been treated, I am only too glad to be done with all responsibility. Here it is,’ and he produced the envelope.

The man leaped upon it like a beast, and with hands that trembled in a manner painful to behold, tore it open and unfolded the letter. As he read, terror seemed to mount upon him to the pitch of nightmare. He struck one hand upon his brow, while with the other, as if unconsciously, he crumpled the paper to a ball. ‘My gracious powers!’ he cried; and then, dashing to the window, which stood open on the garden, he clapped forth his head and shoulders, and whistled long and shrill. Challoner fell back into a corner, and resolutely grasping his staff, prepared for the most desperate events; but the thoughts of the man with the chin-beard were far removed from violence. Turning again into the room, and once more beholding his visitor, whom he appeared to have forgotten, he fairly danced with trepidation. ‘Impossible!’ he cried. ‘Oh, quite impossible! O Lord, I have lost my head.’ And then, once more striking his hand upon his brow, ‘The money!’ he exclaimed. ‘Give me the money.’

‘My good friend,’ replied Challoner, ‘this is a very painful exhibition; and until I see you reasonably master of yourself, I decline to proceed with any business.’

‘You are quite right,’ said the man. ‘I am of a very nervous habit; a long course of the dumb ague has undermined my constitution. But I know you have money; it may be still the saving of me; and oh, dear young gentleman, in pity’s name be expeditious!’ Challoner, sincerely uneasy as he was, could scarce refrain from laughter; but he was himself in a hurry to be gone, and without more delay produced the money. ‘You will find the sum, I trust, correct,’ he observed ‘and let me ask you to give me a receipt.’

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