when you get him and the papers, burn the papers: don't let them cause any more bloodshed."
"I shan't move without Mr. McManus," he assured her. "He is cool-headed and resourceful. I'll catch Mr. Wing's murderer and I'll put an end to the mischief those papers can do."
Nevertheless, there was the sense of oppression and danger hanging over him. He was doubting himself—doubting himself, from the moment Matthewson had assured him that he would give a hundred thousand dollars for the papers. Suppose he should find them, would he have strength to put that offer from him? As he asked this question, he realised that the fear that weighed on him was rather the fear born of a sense of moral degradation than fear of bodily harm. He knew as absolutely as if the thing was done that, if once he was in possession of the papers, he would sell them to Matthewson; and while he knew it and hated himself for being capable of doing it, he went steadily on the course which could have no other ending.
