Brent took his pipe from his lips, and gave a sulky growl. "What about, sir?"
"I'll tell you in good time," replied Paul, taking a chair, and selecting a cigarette from his case. "In the meantime, I am thirsty, and wish to drink. You'll have some ale with me?"
"I'd 'ave ale wi' anyone," said Brent, suspiciously; "but I don't know, sir, what the likes o' you wants with the likes o' me."
"We'll come to that soon," said Mexton, and hammered on the table. "Two tankards of bitter," he added to the slip-slop landlady, who entered with a deferential smile.
The liquor was soon brought, and after a deep draught Paul lighted his cigarette, and looked closely at the ploughman. Brent took a drink also, and tried to appear at ease, although he was visibly disturbed by the scrutiny of his visitor. Having reduced him to a doubtful frame of mind, Mexton addressed himself to the matter in hand.
He knew the manner of the man he had to do with, and that it would not be an easy matter to extract information from such a sulky brute. Threats also would avail little, as Brent was one of these pig-headed men, who begin by denying, and go on doing so in the face of the clearest evidence with incredible obstinacy. The sole chance of getting at the truth was to assume that Lovel had confessed the bribery to him--that is, to Paul Mexton--and had sent him on an errand connected therewith to Brent. This attitude necessitated the telling of a few lies; but Mexton was quite prepared to tell them. He was cool-headed and pertinacious, and not the man to stick at a trifle for the gaining of his own ends.
"I have come to you from Mr. Lovel," said Paul, slowly.
Brent's jaw dropped. "What's the likes of him want with the likes of me?" he said.
"A little decency, in the first place," replied Mexton. "You promised to hold your tongue about the meeting of Mr. Lovel and Miss Lester on the night of the murder."
"How d'ye know they met?" asked Brent, with dogged suspicion.