"No, De Vere, it was on very different matters I wanted Bill's advice."
"Bill's advice—a good one—his advice is the fiend's own counsel," said the Captain, disregarding Bill's angry look, who exclaimed, "And if he wants my advice, why shouldn't he have it, you scoundrel?"
"Stow that, old badger," interrupted the Captain. "Stow that, Bill; no brawling, remember; but I say again, d—n all secrets—out with it, Ned, you know me, I am no sieve."
"But, De Vere, this concerns your own family. I cannot tell it to you yet—by-and-by I may—not now."
"And why not now? If it concerns my family who has a better right to know it? and if I am to know it some day, why not now?"
L'Estrange still hesitated.
"Hark you," said the Captain, rising flushed with anger, and striking the table such a blow with his clenched hand as set all the glasses waltzing, "you shall trifle with me no more: I wish to know that secret, and by heaven I will! Look you here, my fine fellow, no one saw you come in here, and devil a one shall see you go out, unless you turf your secret! it is as safe with me as with Bill, and unless I know it, you never leave this room living."
His whole frame seemed to dilate with passion as he shouted, rather than spoke, these words.
"Out with it, Ned; devil a fear of the Cap's turning traitor, he will rap through right and wrong," said old Bill Stacy.
L'Estrange knowing the desperate character of these two men, and feeling sure they would feel small scruples in fulfilling their threat, should he longer hesitate, thought the best part of valour was discretion, and told them he would make a clean breast of it.