"Then there was Mistress Haddakin, from whom you extracted fifty shillings for a new gate, which you don't intend to put up for her: and this, although she has only just buried her husband, and had a baby sick at home. You put on finer airs with the poor people than you do with me, eh?"
"'Tis not our money, sir," protested Master Mittachip, humbly.
"Some of it goes into your own pockets. Hush money, blood money, I call it. That's what I want from you, and then a bit over for the poor box on behalf of your employers."
He weighed the leather bag which he had taken out of Master Duffy's pocket.
"This'll do for the poor box. Now I want the five pounds you extorted from Widow Coggins and Mistress Haddakin. The poor women'll be glad of it on the morrow."
"I haven't a penny more than that bagful, sir," protested Master Mittachip. "My employers took all the money from me. 'Twere their rents I was collecting. I swear it, sir, kind sir! on my word of honour! And I am an honest man!"
"Come here!"
And Beau Brocade reined his horse back a few paces.
"Come here!" he repeated.
Mittachip was too frightened to disobey. He came forward, limping very perceptibly.