“ Mr. Urquhart,” he cried, pulling the bit of paper from his pocket and spreading it out before the squire, “here’s that cheque you gave me! I haven’t cashed it and I’m not going to cash it. I’ve done your work for my own pleasure. I don’t want a penny for doing it! You see it’s the same cheque, don’t you? Well⁠ ⁠… here goes!”

As he spoke he crumpled up the precious slip in his fingers; and, just as if he were retreating to make some tremendous leap, he stepped back a pace or two from the table.

The east wind was whirling round and round the room; and both of the men, sitting huddled by the fire, lifted their heads to look at him over their turned-up collars.

But as Wolf jumped back, crumpling the cheque, what he looked at was not the face of the Squire, but the face of Jason.