“Well, thank you, sir,” he answered. “Don’t mind a drop of ale.”
Blick looked at Grimsdale, who went out and returned with a frothing tankard, which he set down at the groom’s elbow.
“See that we’re not disturbed, Grimsdale,” said Blick. “If anybody—never mind who it is—wants me, say I’m engaged.”
The landlord withdrew and closed the door and Blick pushed his tobacco pouch over to his visitor, who was fingering his pipe.
“Try a bit of that,” he said hospitably, “and light up. Well—you wanted to have a talk with me, Pegge. What is it?”
Before Pegge replied to this direct invitation, he filled and lighted his pipe, got it fairly going, and lifting the tankard of ale to his lips, murmured an expression of his best respect to his entertainer. Then, with a look round his surroundings, indicative of a desire for strict privacy, he gave Blick a shrewd glance.
“I shouldn’t like to get into trouble,” he remarked.
“Just so!” agreed Blick. “You won’t—through anything that you say to me.”
“Nor yet to get anybody else into trouble,” continued Pegge. “That is—unless so be as they’re deserving of it!”
“Exactly!—unless they’re deserving of it,” said Blick. “In that case, you wouldn’t mind?”