"Stay, Doubledick," he said, "you must take a thimbleful before you go."
"Not for me, Maister," replied the innkeeper, with a virtuous expression of countenance.
"Nonsense, man. It won't poison you. You have read me quite wrongly, my friend. Did ever a man take offence so easily! You've come badly out of my little test, but I'll overlook it. I've a deal more patience than you.... Susan, bring the decanter and glasses. Hot, Doubledick?"
"Well, I don't mind if it be, this chilly night. But 'tis gettin' latish; it must be only a nibleykin, Maister."
"Now, Doubledick," said Trevanion, as they sipped their liquor, "I'm not the man to refuse to help a friend, even if he shows himself only a fair-weather friend after all."
"I knowed it," cried Doubledick heartily. "A little small voice inside telled me ye were only a-tryin' me, and 'ud show yerself in yer natural true colour at last. Well, Maister, ten pound won't do it; no, King's servants do hev high notions, be-jowned to 'em. Twenty? I be afeard it wouldn' go far. 'Tis well to do a thing handsome when 'tis to be done. Fifty? Iss, a man can do summat wi' fifty. Fifty pound 'll keep a many tongues quiet, and I'll be dazed if I don't snap my fingers at justices, sheriffs, hangmen, and constables, if I do hev fifty pound to my hand."
Trevanion rose and went to a cabinet in a corner of the room. Unlocking it, he opened a drawer, standing with his back to Doubledick. There was a sound of rustling paper.
"'Tis a monstrous sum," he said, half turning.
"Ah, 'tis, to be sure," said Doubledick feelingly, "but King's officers do hev' a tarrible big swaller."
"Well, here you are," said Trevanion, recrossing the room. "I'm not the man to refuse a friend."