“Anything ye will, Jack,” answered the Captain eagerly, “for, demme, the town’s dead at this hour ... a curst dog-hole, rat me! Say the word and I’m yours. What’s to do?”
“Bear-baiting, Tom.”
“Hey? Bear-baiting? What the——”
“D’ye happen to know which particular coffee-house my Lord Sayle affects?”
“Eh—Sayle?” repeated the Captain, halting suddenly. “Sayle, is it? Oh, demme! D’ye mean——”
“My Lord Sayle!” nodded Sir John.
“But ... bear-baiting, Jack? O man, Lord love ye, ’tis pure to ha’ ye back; the town’s alive again, or will be, burn me if ’twon’t! Sayle, eh? So soon, Jack! Egad, ’tis like ye!... Bear-baiting. Oh, demme!” And the Captain halted again to laugh.
“And which coffee-house, Tom——”
“Why, y’ see, Jack, the fellow’s not dared show his face in town o’ late in consequence o’ that last ‘affair’ of his with poor young Torwood ... but ... I remember him at Will’s, last year, aye, and Lockett’s.”