"We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short.
"In the mean time, with your permission, I'll just make a few minutes of
our conversation."

"As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the
chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a
nail.

Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately
sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. While
he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of
curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and
examined the haft. What he there noticed occasioned a marked change in
his demeanour. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and
distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of
anything having happened.

"There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do.
To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. Wood. Make up your mind as to
the terms, and I'll engage to find the man."

"Hold!" exclaimed the carpenter, in an authoritative voice: "we can't
part thus. Thames, look the door." (An order which was promptly obeyed.)
"Now, Sir, I must insist upon a full explanation of your mysterious
hints, or, as I am headborough of the district, I shall at once take you
into custody."

Jackson treated this menace with a loud laugh of derision.