"Why should she not do it as well?" said Thurnall. "Mrs. Barker, do you know anything of a person named Briggs—John Briggs, the apothecary's son, at Whitbury?"
She laughed a harsh bitter laugh.
"Know he? yes, and too much reason. That was where it all begun, along of that play-going of he's and my master's."
"Have you seen him lately?" asked Campbell, eagerly.
"I seen 'un? I'd hit this water over the fellow, and all his play-acting merryandrews, if ever he sot a foot here!"
"But have you heard of him?"
"Ees—" said she carelessly; "he's round here now, I heard my master say, about the 'Delphy, with my master: a drinking, I suppose. No good, I'll warrant."
"My good woman," said Campbell, panting for breath, "bring me face to face with that man, and I'll put a five-pound note in your hand there and then."
"Five pounds is a sight to me: but it's a sight more than the sight of he's worth," said she suspiciously again.
"That's the gentleman's concern," said Tom. "The money's yours. I suppose you know the worth of it by now?"