"Yes—that's what I meant," said Droop, anxious to come to the point. "But your high-water mark is science—philosophy—all that. Now, you're somethin' of a capitalist, too, I surmise."
He paused expectant.
"A what, friend?"
"Why, you're in some Trust er other, ain't ye?—Member of Congress—I mean Parlyment—friend of Lord What's-'is-name—Clerk of the Star—suthin' or other. Guess you're pretty middlin' rich, ain't ye?"
Bacon's face grew long at these words, and he seated himself in evident melancholy.
"Why, to speak truth, friend," he said, "I find myself at this moment in serious straits. Indeed, 'tis an affair of a debt that hath driven me thus to your door."
"A debt!" said Droop, his heart sinking.
"Ay. The plain truth is, that at this moment I am followed by two bailiffs—bearers of an execution of arrest upon my person. 'Twas to evade these fellows that I entered this deserted garden, leaving my horse without. 'Tis for this cause I am here. Now, Master Droop, you know the whole truth."
"Great Jonah!" said Droop, helplessly. "But didn't you say you had friends?"
"None better, Master Droop. My uncle is Lord Burleigh—Lord High Treasurer to her Gracious Majesty. My patron is the Earl of Essex——"