"There is some emprise you would do?" I asked surprised.
"Nay, a very easy task," said he, airily, "but one to be well paid, I warrant."
"What price would you put on this job?" said I, considering.
"I believe, Nick, there is one hundred guineas awaiting at the Angel, is't not?" said he, turning to his fellow.
He that was termed Nick nodded in a surly fashion.
"'Tis a nice round bag," said I, "and what should be done for this?" for I was sick of these approaches, and I liked him not.
"I have a runaway wife," says he, with a faint smile. "Faith, Captain, she is a madcap; she stalketh by day and by night, and she has taken wings from her dear husband. I would have you to unite us again."
I grinned on him, for I knew what this portended. "Sure this poor lady must be clipped, but where?" I asked.
"She rides from Midhurst," said he, "and doubtless will pass this way. I had intended with this friend, who is so kind to give me sympathy and his company—I had intended to have catched her myself and brought her to a meeting. But, Captain, you will understand my feelings. My emotions run. I am wax. She were best in your civil hands, that would not imbrue themselves in hasty deeds. You will soothe and dissuade her, I warrant, a man of your tongue. She needs but a sure hand and a cool heart, which I dare not promise. I am disaffected by my passion. I would use an instrument rather."