“In faith, he has not. In vain I urged him to tell me his place of abode, and if I know not where to find him how can I carry out the project we have decided upon?”
“True,” said Learmont. “There must be found some means. Listen to me: when next Jacob Gray seeks me for money, I will put him off to a particular hour the next day. Be you then, at that hour, lurk about here, and follow him to his home, whither he will most likely go directly, having a sum of money with him.”
“That may do,” said Britton, after a moment’s consideration. “You can send to me at any time by my real name, addressed to a little hostelrie, called ‘The Old Chequers,’ by Storey’s Gate hard by. You see, squire, I thought it handy to live near at hand.”
“Promise me—swear to me, you will take this man’s life!” cried Learmont with sudden vehemence.
“I have no particular objection to take his life,” replied Britton.
“And the boy?”
“That’s as circumstances turn out, squire. If the boy knows nothing—suspects nothing—”
“Aye there’s the doubt. Britton, dispose of Gray, and your reward, as you know, is most ample. Bring, then, that boy to me.”
“Agreed. You shall have him.”
“Thanks, good Britton; and—and when you bring him you shall not be five minutes without your just reward.”