J. R. I reckon that he is afraid, my lord. It is not safe to meddle with them. They are of good birth, and reckless, and their place is very strong.
J. J. Good birth! What was Lord Russell of, Lord Essex, and Sidney? ’Tis the surest heirship to the block to be the chip of an old one. What is the name of this pestilent race, and how many of them are there?
J. R. They are the Doones of Bagworthy Forest, may it please your worship. And we reckon there be about forty of them, besides the women and children.
J. J. Forty Doones all forty thieves! How long have they been there, then?
J. R. Before the great war they came, longer back than I can remember.
J. J. Ay, long before thou wast born, John. Good, thou speakest plainly. Woe betide a liar, whenso I get hold of him. Ye need me on the Western Circuit, and ye shall have me when London traitors are hung and swung. Now, a few more things, John Ridd, and, for the present, I have done with thee. Is there any sound, round your way of disaffection to his most gracious Majesty?
J. R. No, my lord; no sign whatever. We pray for him in church, and talk about him afterward, hoping it may do him good, as it is intended. But after that we have naught to say, not knowing much about him—at least till I get home again.
J. J. That is as it should be, John, and the less you say the better. Now, John, I have taken a liking to thee; for never man told me the truth, without fear or favor, more truly than thou hast done. I meant to use thee as my tool, but thou art too honest and simple; and never let me find thee, John, a tool for the other side, or a tube for my words to pass through.