Travers minor looked at the spy in a spellbound sort of way.
"It's a wonderful disguise," he said.
"Not one of my best, though," answered the man. "I never look the same two days running. Very likely to-morrow I shall be a smart young officer; and then, again, I may look like a farmer, or a clergyman, or anything. It's part of my work to be a master of the art of disguises."
Travers minor began to whisper to me, and asked me how much money I had. Then the great spy spoke again.
"I might give you boys a job next Saturday afternoon, but you'll have to be pretty smart to do it. I'm taking a German then. I've marked him down at Little Mudborough--you know, a mile from Merivale--and on Saturday next, at 'The Wool Pack' public-house, I meet him and arrest him. I shall want a bit of help, I dare say."
Travers fairly trembled with excitement after that. Then he felt in his pocket and found he'd only got a shilling, and this he gave to the spy without a thought; but I happened to have five shillings by an extraordinary fluke, it being my birthday, and Brown had changed a postal order from my mother; so I was not nearly so keen about the spy as Travers minor. Travers was a good deal relieved to hear I'd got as much, and even then apologised that we could only produce six bob between us.
The spy seemed rather disappointed, and I made a feeble effort to keep my five shillings by saying:
"Couldn't you get to the police-station? They'd be sure to have tons of money there."
But at the mention of a police-station he showed the utmost annoyance, combined with contempt. He said: "What's your name?"
And I said: "Briggs."