Bishop Caiaphas was looking at the man, trying to get into the workings of his mind. “Of course,” he said, “we are willing to pay you for your trouble. We don’t ask you to help us for nothing.”
“No, sir,” said Iscariot, “I know that. I just mean to speak plain, sir, when I say I’ve got to be paid for doing it. You see, He don’t pay me nothing, and I ain’t beholden to Him for nothing, but, all the same, I ain’t got no spite agin Him.”
“How much do you expect us to pay you?” said the bishop.
“I don’t know,” said the man. “How much do you think it would be worth to you? You see, I’ve got to keep track of Him all the time, and then I’ve got to let you know where He’s going to be, and where you can come up with Him. It may be a matter of four or five days.”
“This gentleman,” said the bishop, indicating Mr. Inkerman, “seems to think that ten dollars would be about right.”
The man looked down into his hat and began again turning it around and around in his hands. “I don’t know that I care to do it for that,” he said. “I don’t know that I care to do it at all, but this gentleman here”–indicating Inspector Dolan–“he comes to me and he says he heard I know where He’s to be found, and that I wasn’t particular about keeping with Him any longer.”
“And how much, then, do you think would be worth while?” said the bishop.
“Oh, well,” said the man, “I don’t just know about that. I wouldn’t mind doing it if you gave me thirty dollars.”
“Thirty dollars!” said Mr. Inkerman; but Bishop Caiaphas held up his hand and the lawyer was silent.
“I’ll give you thirty dollars, my man,” he said, “the day that your Master is apprehended.”