.
Ah, I thought so!" "Put that money back where you found it!" snarled Leicester.
"By God! I don't know what you're after, but I'll have the law of you for this evening's work!" "All in good time, my friend: you shall have as much law as you like, and a trifle over.

See, Rector ?" Mr.Rogers pointed to a scratch on the face of one of the coins.
Leicester began to smell danger.

"What's wrong with the money ?" he demanded.

Then as no one answered, "There's nothing wrong with it, is there ?" he asked.
"Depends where you got it, and how," he was answered.
"Look here--you're not treating me fair," urged the rogue, changing his tune.

"If it's over the money you're knocking me about like this, you're maltreating an innocent man; for I had it from Parson Whitmore--every penny." "Ah, if you can prove that"-- Mr.Rogers's face was perfectly grave-- "you're a lucky man! The Reverend Mr.Whitmore has disappeared." The scoundrel's face was a study.