“I think not,” said Gray, “and yet I will think upon your offer, Squire Learmont. I will not deny that some scheme of the kind has already dawned upon my own mind. I will think upon your offer; and should some means occur to me by which safety can be so well assured as to be past a doubt, I will accept it, for I loathe the life I lead.”
“’Tis well,” said Learmont.
“And now I want a hundred pounds,” said Jacob Gray, in an affectedly submissive voice.
“A hundred pounds!” exclaimed Learmont.
“Yes, a hundred! And I will have them.”
“Jacob Gray,” said Learmont, “why have I plunged myself into crime, and leagued myself with such men as you and Britton, but for this gold which your and his insatiable demands would wring from me?”
“Agreed,” cried Gray. “But now ’tis done, and to keep the gibbet—”
“The gibbet!”
“Ay, the gibbet, Squire Learmont. To keep that without its victim, you must, and will pay the last farthing, if needs be, of that gold you talk of as your tempter. Why, it tempted me, and I will riot in it! A hundred pounds, good squire.”
“Ten thousand are yours, if you bring me the boy and your written confession.”