‘There ain’t no cause for you to swear at a poor workin’ man. Come now, mister, you an’ me understands each other well enough. You don’t want no questions asked. Ten quid apiece an’ me an’ my pal we don’t know nothin’ abaht it.’
‘My good man, you’ve gone out of your senses. I have nothing to keep quiet. This business is quite correct.’
The wiry man winked deliberately.
‘That’s orl right, mister, it’s quite c’rrect. And ten quid apiece’ll keep it that way?’
There was silence for a moment, and the bearded man spoke:—
‘You suspect there is something wrong about the cask? Well, you’re wrong, for there isn’t. But I admit that if you talk before Thursday next I’ll lose my bet. See here, I’ll give you five pounds apiece and you may have your mate’s.’ He counted out some coins, chinking them in his hands. ‘You may take it or leave it. You won’t get any more, for then it would be cheaper for me to lose the bet.’
The wiry man paused, eyeing the gold greedily. He opened his mouth to reply, then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. Irresolutely he stood, glancing questioningly at the other. Constable Walker could see his face clearly in the light of the lantern, with an evil, sardonic smile curling his lips. Then, like a man who, after weighing a problem, comes to a decision, he took the money and turned to the horse’s head.
‘Well, mister,’ he said, as he put his vehicle in motion, ‘that’s straight enough. I’ll stand by it.’
The bearded man closed and bolted the yard gates and disappeared with his lantern into the house. In a few seconds the sounds of the receding wheels on the gravel ceased and everything was still.
After waiting a few minutes motionless, Constable Walker slipped off the coping of the wall and dropped noiselessly to the ground. Tiptoeing across to the hedge, he passed silently out of the little gate and regained the lane.