‘Let me hold that purse, Baptist, or I’ll scrag ye. ’Tis my right.’
‘How your right, my fine sir?’
‘You swore that we should share her. The plan was yours. You swore it on the cross. And you’ve held my ring twice in your hands, and had it on your finger the length of the Sentinel’s Walk. You disgrace yourself by this avarice.’
‘You shall not hold my purse, Adam; but you may feel it.’
‘Let me feel it, then. For how long?’
‘Till the bell goes the hour.’
‘That is only a minute or two.’
‘It will be ten minutes, I tell you. Now then, if you care.’
Master Gordon put his hand into the bosom of Master Des-Essars and solemnly pinched the purse.
‘She’ll be sleeping now,’ said Adam.