Perkins looked provokingly obtuse. If the Bishop had only known it, he was afraid of vexing him further by saying anything, and accordingly he said nothing.
“Keep diligent watch for the man, and seize him when he cometh again. As for the woman, bring her before me to-morrow at nine o’ the clock. Be careful what you do, as you value my favour.”
Perkins pulled his forelock again, and departed.
“The man is hard as a stone,” said the Bishop to one of the Canons, with whom he was walking: “no impression can be made upon him.”
“He is scantly the worse gaoler for that, under your Lordship’s correction,” said the Canon carelessly.
“He makes an hard keeper, I cast no doubt,” answered the Bishop.
Perkins’s demeanour changed as soon as his Lordship had passed out of sight and hearing.
“Dick o’ Dover’s in a jolly fume!” he said to one of the vergers whom he met.
“Why, what’s angered him?”
“I have, belike, that I catched not yon man, Mistress Benden’s brother, a-coming to see her. Why, the loon’s full o’ wiles—never comes at after sunrise. It’d take an eel to catch him. And I’m not his thief-catcher, neither. I works hard enough without that. Old Dick may catch his eels his self if he lacks ’em.”