"here's two apples for ye; ye can't get them
for less: and a halfpenny, or a haporth, is all
one to you: but it is a great odds to me. And
apples they rot; halfpence don't."

It was now nine o'clock. The Bank did not
open till ten; but Maxley went and hung about
the door, to be the first applicant.

As he stood there trembling with fear lest the
Bank should not open at all, he thought hard:
and the result was a double resolution; he
would have his money out to the last shilling;
and, this done, would button up his pockets and
padlock his tongue. It was not his business
to take care of his neighbours; nor to blow the
Hardies, if they paid him his money on demand.
"So not a word to my missus, nor yet to the
town crier," said he.

Ten o'clock struck, and the Bank shutters
remained up. Five minutes more, and the
watcher was in agony. Three minutes more,
and up came a boy of sixteen, whistling, and
took down the shutters with an indifference that
amazed him. "Bless your handsome face,"
said Maxley, with a sigh of relief.

He now summoned all his firmness, and,
having recourse to an art, in which these shrewd
rustics are supreme, made his face quite
inexpressive, and so walked into the Bank the
every day Maxley—externally; but, within, a
volcano ready to burst if there should be the
slightest hesitation to pay him his money.

"Good morning, Mr. Maxley," said young
Skinner.

"Good morning, sir."

"What can we do for you?"

"Oh, I'll wait my turn, sir."

"Well, it is your turn now, if you like."

"How much have you got of mine, if you
please, sir?"

"Your balance? I'll see. Nine hundred
and four pounds."

"Well, sir, then, if you please, I'll draa that."

"It has come!" thought Skinner. "What,
going to desert us?" he stammered.

"No," said the other, trembling inwardly,
but not moving a facial muscle: "it is only
for a day or two, sir."

"Ah! I see, going to make a purchase. By-
the-by, I believe Mr. Hardie means to offer you
some grounds he is buying outside the town:
will that suit your book?"

"I dare say it will, sir."

"Then perhaps you will wait till our governor
comes in?"

"I have no objection."

"He won't be long. Fine weather for the
gardens, Mr. Maxley."

"Moderate, sir. I'll take my money, if you
please. Counting of it out, that will help pass
the time till Muster Hardie comes. You han't
made away with it?"

"What d' ye mean, sir?"

"Hardies bain't turned thieves, be they?"

"Are you mad, or intoxicated, Mr. Maxley?"

"Neither, sir: but I wants my own: and I
wool have it too: so count out on this here counter,
or I'll cry the town round that there door."

"Henry, score James Maxley's name off the
books," said Skinner, with cool dignity. But,
when he had said this, he was at his wits' end:
there were not nine hundred pounds of hard
cash in the Bank; nor anything like it.

CHAPTER XIX.

SKINNER—called "young" because he had
once had a father on the premises—was the mole-
catcher. The feelings, with which he had now
for some months watched his master grubbing,
were curiously mingled. There was the grim
sense of superiority every successful Detective
feels as he sees the watched one working away
unconscious of the eye that is on him; but this
was more than balanced by a long habit of
obsequious reverence. When A. has been looking
up to B. for thirty years, he cannot look
down on him all of a sudden, just because he
catches him falsifying accounts. Why man is a
cooking animal. Commercial man especially.

And then Richard Hardie overpowered Skinner's
senses: he was Dignity in person: he was
six feet two, and always wore a black surtout
buttoned high, and a hat with a brim a little
broader than his neighbours, yet not broad
enough to be eccentric or slang. He moved
down the street touching this hat—while other
hats were lifted high to him—a walking column
of cash. And when he took off this ebon crown,
and sat in the Bank parlour, he gained in
appearance more than he lost; for then his
whole head was seen, long, calm, majestic:
that senatorial front, and furrowed face,
overawed all comers: even the little sharp faced clerk
would stand and peep at it utterly puzzled
between what he knew and what he eyed: nor
could he look at that head and face without
excusing them; what a lot of money they must
have sunk, before they came down to fabricating
a balance-sheet!

And by-and-by custom somewhat blunted
his sense of the dishonesty: and he began to
criticise the thing arithmetically instead of
morally: that view once admitted, he was
charmed with the ability and subtlety of his
dignified sharper: and so the mole-catcher
began gradually, but effectually, to be corrupted
by the mole. He, who watches a dishonest
process and does not stop it, is half way towards
conniving; who connives, is half way towards
abetting.

The next thing was, Skinner felt mortified at
his master not trusting him. Did he think old
Bob Skinner's son would blow on Hardie after
all these years?

This rankled a little, and set him to console
himself by admiring his own cleverness in
penetrating this great distrustful man. Now of all
sentiments Vanity is the most restless and the
surest to peep out; Skinner was no sooner
inflated, than his demure obsequious manner
underwent a certain change; slight and occasional
only; but Hardie was a subtle man, and the
perilous path he was treading made him wonderfully
watchful, suspicious, and sagacious: he
said to himself, "What has come to Skinner?