"Quite impossible. Penwarden and my young cousin will swear to you, and there has been such a stir about the matter that Sir Bevil or the Vicar will sign the warrant the moment they hear of your arrival."
"Maybe. But money do make the mare to go, Maister, and seems to I, if so be you'd help, we med put a clapper on evil-speakin' tongues. A-course 't 'ud need a pretty big sum to do it proper, but theer, what's that to 'ee, rollin' in money as you be? And I know well ye'll put yer hand in pocket to help a poor feller in a quag, purticler as he've done summat for 'ee, in Polkerran and Rusco both."
"I'll be hanged if I do," cried Trevanion, at last shaken out of his composure. "You made a wretched bungle of a simple job, and you'll have to take the consequences."
"Good now! I like to hear a man speak fine and brave, but I hev a brave mouth-speech o' my own." Doubledick's tone was as smooth and deferential as it had been throughout the conversation, but an onlooker might now have observed that he was beginning to show his teeth. "Zacky Tonkin, now," he proceeded: "I reckon he'd be fain to know why Delarousse warn't no longer the feller to do trade with: that bit o' knowledge med be worth payin' for. And Sir Bevil: iss sure, his darter be a nesh young female——"
"Confound you! What do you mean by that?" cried Trevanion.
"Ah! little small birds do carr' little small seeds, they do. High persons like Sir Bevil be mighty purticler when 'tis question o' lawful matrimony."
Trevanion, red with anger, rose from his chair and came towards Doubledick threateningly.
"Ah! dear life!" continued the innkeeper, unflinchingly, "and there be Mounseer Delarousse, too, thankful for what I done for him. It did vex me tarrible to mizzle un; but a word can put that right, and let un know the true dwellin' o' that coorious feller Robinson. In course his grudge agen Robinson bean't nothing to I, but he do seem tarrible sour and rampageous. Howsomever, let every man fight his own battles. Now I'll go home-along, and I wish 'ee well, Maister."
He rose, took his hat, and moved towards the door.
Trevanion looked after him for a moment irresolutely, then stretched his hand towards the bell-rope.