He waited thus for awhile like the true entertainer who husbands his effects; he waited until the circle round him drew closer and closer, until four pairs of elbows rested on the table and flagons and mugs were impatiently pushed aside.
Sir Anthony Wykeham was the last to hold aloof, but even he said at last with a distinct ring of excitement in his voice:
"Tell us more fully what you mean, man! Cannot you see that Stowmaries is devoured with impatience?"
"An impatience which I am over-anxious to relieve," rejoined Ayloffe imperturbably, "but firstly let me ask Lord Stowmaries himself—who I assert is a wealthy man—whether he would not give a good tenth of his fortune to be conveniently rid of an unwelcome wife, without hindrance to his belief or conscience."
"I would give half my fortune, good Sir John," sighed Stowmaries dolefully.
"Half is too much, good my lord," responded Sir John blandly. "Popular rumour deems your lordship worth some four hundred thousand pounds in solid cash, besides the rent rolls of half Hertfordshire. Methinks one fourth of that should purchase the freedom which you seek."
"Are you minded to earn that fortune, Sir John?" asked the other not without a sneer.
"Nay, my lord, I am neither young enough, nor sufficiently well-favoured for that desirable task," retorted Sir John imperturbably.
"What have looks or favours to do with it all? Odd's fish!" growled Stowmaries more vehemently, and bringing a clenched fist crashing down upon the table so that mugs and bottles rattled, "meseems that you, Sir John, are trying to fool me, God help me! are even trying to bring ridicule upon my sorrow! By the Mass, sir, if that be so, you'll not find me in a mood to be trifled with."