He did not go far. He listened and heard the plucky Evans groan. He came hastily in.
“Courage, my fine fellow, only eight minutes more and the guinea is yours.
“How many more minutes, sir?”
“Eight.”
“Then, oh! undo me, sir, if you please.”
“What! forfeit the guinea for eight minutes—seven, it is only seven now.”
“Hang the guinea, let me down, sir, if there's pity in you.”
“With all my heart,” said the reverend gentleman, pocketing the guinea, and he loosed Evans with all speed.
The man stretched his limbs with ejaculations of pain between every stretch, and put his handkerchief on very gingerly. He looked sulky and said nothing. The other watched him keenly, for there was something about him that showed his mind was working.
“There is your guinea.”