“These should go close on £4 to the ounce,” remarked the goldsmith, as he separated with the blade of a table-knife a portion of the gold equal to what he guessed to be five ounces, and the remainder he replaced in the bag.
“That’s for you,” he said, pushing the plate towards her.
Gentle Annie gleefully took the gold in her hands.
“You generous old party!” she exclaimed. “I know when I am well off.”
They now drank tea out of dainty cups, and Benjamin took a pipe and tobacco from his pocket.
“I really must have a smoke to settle my dinner,” he said.
“Of course,” said she; “it was only my fun. I smoke myself.” Taking a packet from the mantelpiece, she lighted a cigarette, which she handed to Tresco, when a low knock was heard at the door.
In a moment she had blown out the light, and led the erring goldsmith to her inner room, where he stood, apprehensive but alert. From his belt he drew a knife, and then he furtively examined the fastenings of the muslin-draped window.
He heard his hostess open the door and speak to her visitor, who replied in a deep voice, at some length. But, presently, the door closed, the steps of the visitor were heard departing, and Gentle Annie softly entered the room.
“You’re quite safe,” she said.