Having reached it,
he gave himself up to a spasm of silent laughter.
"Christian burial!" he chuckled. "Oh, yes, he shall have Christian
burial in the family vaults. Lucky job for me the hound died, or the
game would have been all up. As it is, that fool--that popinjay, almost
guessed. Well, deny everything and demand proof, that's my line. After
all, it's the very risks and chances that make the game so fascinating."
He sat down and drew out a little note-book--only a very ordinary penny
note-book; for it was wonderful how mean this man could be when he had
to expend his own money. Save clothes, which necessarily had to be of
good material, though quiet in colour, he never failed to buy the
cheapest article obtainable; unless, of course, when, on the principle
of "throwing a sprat to catch a herring," he stood to make a profit.
In this little book there lay the records of fortunes. A fortune spent
by Leroy--a fortune gained by Jasper Vermont. He smiled to himself, as
he closed one eye, and counted up the gains he had netted through this
day's work.
"Eight--ten, with Yorkshire Twining's last little touch--ten thousands
pounds.
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