“Ten pieces,” said the smith.
Learmont took his purse from his pocket, and without a word, counted out required sum, and then stood with his lamp in his hand waiting for the other to leave the place.
“You won’t show me your house, I suppose?” said Britton, in an aggravating voice.
The dark eye of Learmont flashed with rage; but he said nothing.
“Oh, very well,” cried Britton; “another time will do just as well. Recollect the sign of ‘The Old Chequers,’ I shall be very glad to see you whenever you may choose to call, and we can always find something interesting to talk about.”
“Away with you—away!“ cried Learmont.
“Let me see,” said Britton, with great deliberation, counting on his fingers, “this is Tuesday—Wednesday—Thursday—Friday—well, say Friday.”
“Friday for what?”
“My next visit.”
“So soon?”