In company with these worthies was a third, wrapped in a heavy riding-coat, and who now and then slightly took part in the conversation. They all talked in low, earnest whispers, casting many a stealthy glance backward as they advanced through the dim avenue toward our curious friend.
As the party approached, Larry ensconced himself in the recess formed by the projection of two dilapidated brick piers, between which hung a crazy door, and in whose front there stood a mound of rubbish some three feet in height. In such a position he not unreasonably thought himself perfectly secure.
"Why, what the devil ails you now, you cursed cowardly ninny," whispered Brimstone Bill, through his set teeth—"what can happen you, win or lose?—turn up black, or turn up red, is it not all one to you, you mouth, you? Your carcase is safe and sound—then what do you funk for now? Rouse yourself, you d——d idiot, or I'll drive a brace of lead pellets through your brains—rouse yourself!"
Thus speaking, he shook the groom roughly by the collar.
"Stop, Bill—hands off," muttered the man, sulkily—"I'm not funking—you know I'm not; but I don't want to see him finished—I don't want to see him murdered when there's no occasion for it—there's no great harm in that; we want his ribben, not his blood; there's no profit in taking his life."
"Booby! listen to me," replied the ruffian, in the same tone of intense impatience. "What do I want with his life any more than you do? Nothing. Do not I wish to do the thing genteelly as much as you? He shall not lose a drop of blood, nor his skin have a scratch, if he knows how to behave and be a good boy. Bah! we need but show him the lead towels, and the job's done. Look you, I and Jack will sit in the private room of the 'Bleeding Horse.' Old Tony's a trump, and asks no questions; so, as you pass, give the window a skelp of the whip, and we'll be out in the snapping of a flint. Leave the rest to us. You have your instructions, you kedger, so act up to them, and the devil himself can't spoil our sport."
"You may look out for us, then," said the servant, "in less than two hours. He never stays late at Lady Stukely's, and he must be home before two o'clock."
"Do not forget to grease the hammers," suggested the fellow in the heavy coat.
"He doesn't carry pistols to-night," replied the attendant.
"So much the better—all my luck," exclaimed Brimstone—"I would not swap luck with the chancellor."