He leaned forward and said impressively, "The gibbet, Mr. Wheatman!"
"Draughty places!" said I, smiling, as I thought of Nance Lousely. "I can feel the wind whistling through my bones."
"You are pleased to be facetious, sir. It does credit, I must say, to your nerves."
"You are pleased to be sympathetic, my lord," I riposted, "whereby you do no credit to my common sense."
He took short breaths and then reflected a minute or two, during which I clinked a soft tattoo with my iron wristlets, and eyed him joyously. He was there--a free lordling, I was here--a chained rebel, but I had him set.
"I have a proposal to make to you, Mr. Wheatman," he said at length.
"I am indeed honoured, but be careful, my lord! It's not in the least likely, I fear, to be a proposal which you would like the sentry beneath the window to overhear."
"You are plain and blunt," he said, leaning forward and speaking in a low tone, "and I will be the same. Return me all the papers you took from my sergeant at the 'Ring of Bells,' and I will see that you escape and get clear of the country."
"The different personal ends for which you are anxious to turn traitor seem innumerable, my lord!"
He met the taunt as if it had been a flip with a straw, and only said, "Is it a bargain?"