I abhor myself as much as I do you, you black villain." "Ah!" said Monckton, with a wicked glance, "that's how a man patters before he splits upon his pals, to save his own skin.

Now, look here, old man, before you split on me ask yourself who had the greatest interest in this job.

You silenced a dangerous enemy, but what have I gained?
you ought to square with me first, as you promised.

If you split upon me before that, you will put yourself in the hole and leave me out of it." "Villain and fool!" said Bartley, "these trifles do not trouble me now.
If Hope and my dear Mary are found dead in that mine, I'll tell how they came by their death, and I'll die by my own hand." Monckton said nothing, but looked at him keenly, and began at last to feel uneasy.
"A shaft is but a narrow thing," Bartley rejoined; "why should they be buried alive?
let's get to them before they are starved to death.

We may save them yet." "Why, you fool, they'll denounce us!" "What do I care?
I would save them both to-night if I was to stand in the dock to-morrow." "And swing on the gallows next week, or end your days in a prison." "I'd take my chance," said Bartley, desperately.