“What end is thee working for, friend? If the public prints speak true, Kimber is working to stand for Parliament against Lord Eglington.”
Soolsby grunted and laughed in his throat. “Now, is that the game of Mister Kimber? Against my Lord Eglington! Hey, but that’s a joke, my lord!”
“And what is thee working for, Soolsby?”
“What do I be working for? To get the Egyptian back to England—what else?”
“That is no joke.”
“Ay, but ‘tis a joke.” The old man chuckled. “‘Tis the best joke in the boilin’.” He shook his head and moved his body backwards and forwards with glee. “Me and Kimber! Me and Kimber!” he roared, “and neither of us drunk for a year—not drunk for a whole year. Me and Kimber—and him!”
Faith put her hand on his shoulder. “Indeed, I see no joke, but only that which makes my heart thankful, Soolsby.”
“Ay, you will be thankful, you will be thankful, by-and-by,” he said, still chuckling, and stood up respectfully to show her out.