“That’s true—you are a good fellow; never mind me—I—I should like to see the Old Smithy again before the last drop goes down my throat.”
“The old who?”
“The Old Smithy at Learmont. I’ve had some pleasant hours there and some unpleasant ones, just as it happened. In for a penny, you know, and in for a pound, so I wasn’t going to say nay to the squire, you understand, and be d—d to you.”
“Yes, I understand, that is to say, I don’t exactly comprehend,” said Bonds trying to look very knowing.
“Then you’re a fool,” again cried Britton.
“Very well,” said Bond, with tipsy gravity, “very good—this here’s the state of the case:—You’ve got an animal up stairs, you says—very good. You wants me to take my cleaver, and see what’s to be done.”
“That’s the thing.”
“Then what the deuce do you mean by keeping the creature waiting for, eh?”
“Because I know him,” laughed Britton. “It’s Jacob Gray, you know.”
“Oh, is it? It may be Jacob anything else for all I know about him.”