"Softly, softly mistress," answered the fellow coolly. "Here is the letter sure enow," drawing a small white packet from his valise—"And 'tis from Sir Rupert." Here he showed the direction. "But first give me my price."
"Oh yes, thou shalt be paid, never fear," cried Cicely with increasing impatience. "Now give me the packet."
"Not so fast, mistress," he answered curtly; "I yield not up this packet before I see my reward."
"Oh! you foolish fellow! name your price then."
"Five hundred crowns," he answered coolly.
"Five hundred crowns," cried Cicely in horror; "why, man, thou art mad, I have not such a sum."
"Mad or no, that is my price."
"But I could not pay thee such a sum; you are a very extortioner, you wicked fellow."
"Listen to me, mistress," interrupted the pedlar roughly; "and be not so glib with thy tongue; hard words win no favours. I know nought of politics, and Sir Rupert may hang twenty times for all I care. All I know is that this letter is worth my price, and if ye will not pay it there be others not a mile away who will be right willing to buy the information it contains."
"Ah, sure you could not be so cruel," began Cicely piteously, but Barbara intervened.