But if the opportunity was golden, Wogan was of iron, and they did not leave the debased Crow till he slept in the sheets, which on the night before it was probable that his limbs had never pressed.
When the Crow was slumbering like a babe, Mr. Wogan and Tyrell stepped out, turning the key of his chamber on the outside and entrusting it to his landlady.
'Mr. Talbot has a fever,' Wogan told her, 'and will see nobody. He must on no account see anyone except Mr. Tyrell, nor must he be disturbed before his physician calls.'
Accompanied by the gift of a crown, the key was pocketed by the woman of the house, who expressed anxiety for the health and repose of so quiet a gentleman as Mr. Talbot.
'And now, what is all this pother about?' Tyrell asked when they were got into the street.
'Come towards the Park and I will instruct you. I need quiet for thought, and sylvan repose. What have you been doing all day?'
'Watching the Crow play the fool at Burton's.'
'You have no news?'
'I have seen nobody.'
They walked for a hundred yards or so in silence, Wogan frowning, and Tyrell much perturbed with Wogan's perturbation.