“Yes, Britton. At the hour of midnight. Do you not fail. I shall be there.”
“Fail! I would be there, squire, if ten thousand devils held me back.”
“Away then, now. Drink nothing till that is accomplished. Speak to no one—brood only over your revenge; and when it is done, come to me for any sum you wish. It shall be yours. Jacob Gray now robs you of what you ought to have, Britton.”
“I know it, curses on him! But he shall do so no longer.”
“He kept you poor for years at the smithy.”
“He did.”
“And now calls you a drivelling idiot.”
“Oh, he dies! He dies!”
“Away then now with you; be careful, sober, and trust no one.”
“At midnight, squire, on Westminster-bridge.”