“Of course you wouldn’t, sir! If you was to give me a hand, we could lay this hang-gallows moulder on the sofy. We don’t want to cosset him, but on the other hand he’s more apt to talk if we make him a bit comfortable. And talk he’s got to! If he don’t see reason, he’ll have to be made more uncomfortable than what he is now, but he don’t look to me like one as is hard at hand, and the less breeze we raise the better, sir.”
Gideon nodded, and bent to take Mr. Liversedge’s legs. This unfortunate gentleman was heaved on to the sofa, and groaned faintly. “Leave him to me!” Gideon said curtly. “I’ll call you if I should need you.”
Wragby looked at him doubtfully. “Yes, sir, but the way you’ve been handling him, and the black temper you’re in, begging your pardon, it’s more likely him as’ll need me than you!”
“Don’t be a fool! I shan’t touch him. He thinks the cards are in his hands, but I am not quite at non plus! No, Mr. Liversedge! not quite!”
Mr. Liversedge opened his eyes, and lifted a feeble hand to his bruised throat. He groaned again, and Gideon poured out some more brandy, and took it to him. Wragby, in open disapproval, watched him raise Mr. Liversedge, and put the glass to his lips again. He seemed satisfied, however, that his master had no immediate intention of resorting to any more physical violence, and after remarking that there was no sense in making the fellow jug-bitten, withdrew to stand guard outside the door.
Mr. Liversedge found it rather painful to swallow, but he disposed of the brandy, and was even able to struggle into a sitting-posture. He tenderly felt his throat, uttered one or two more groans, and brought his blood-shot gaze to bear upon his host. “Very unhandsome!” he croaked. “Too hasty, sir! No need for any heat! Had but to say the word and the matter could have been arranged to your taste. For a small sum—quite trifling stun, say thirty thousand, or even twenty-five—willing to restore his Grace safe and sound!” He tried to clear his throat, and winced. “ Happy to do so!” he said. “Not a man of violence—taken quite a fancy to his Grace—no wish to harm him!”
Relief at learning that Gilly was not dead did much to abate Gideon’s wrath. He gave Mr. Liversedge some more brandy. Mr. Liversedge took the glass, and lowered his feet to the floor. “Much better as it is,” he said, his volatile spirits already beginning to turn events to good account. “I may say, Captain Ware, it is gratifying to discover very proper sentiment in you. No need to have been rough, though! In fact, foolish! Must bear in mind that without my goodwill impossible to find his Grace! A very good cognac, sir!”
“Make the most of it!” Gideon advised him. “You’ll get none in Newgate.”
Mr. Liversedge sipped the brandy delicately. He was beginning to feel very much better, as a gentle glow spread through him. “That, sir, is an ungentlemanly observation,” he said. “Moreover, you would gain nothing if you acted hastily, you know. Let bygones be bygones, Captain Ware! Nothing will afford me more pleasure than to restore his Grace to his family.”
“You canting humbug, you are trying to hold his Grace to ransom!” Gideon said.