"Aye, Master," said another, "he is laid up but I fear he has forgot the shrieving. However, he will never again say guilty or not guilty in a jury-box, or kiss the book in justification of bail!"
"Saints protect us! not dead!" exclaimed the foreman. The man nodded assent:—"Then, by the green wax! we shall lose two of the best jobs we have had these three years. Come, come, Harvey, you only banter—the knave is lazy."
"By Saint Luke, poor Beauchamp is as dead as he need be, master," answered Harvey. "I saw him this morning, and his face was as black as—your own this moment!"
Black Jack seized the empty flaggon and was about to hurl it at the head of the facetious under-strapper, when his arm was arrested by the old man who had first spoken.
"Hold, master," said he, "you will find it difficult to fill Beauchamp's seat, without making another vacancy."
The irritated foreman replaced the flaggon on the table but swore he would have no more jesting. "Poor Beauchamp," continued he, "is gone—the cleverest man among ye—no whining—no qualms about him, when a shilling was to be earned by swallowing a pill or sending a traveller before his time to the other world! How unlucky, he had not postponed his flight for another week; this witch would then be disposed of and the sheriff satisfied. Poor Jack, poor Jack! where shall we find a substitute—but a substitute must be had if it were he of the cloven foot himself! This news has made me thirsty," continued he, raising the pitcher to his lips, "but remember, no jesting."
Black Jack then buried his face in his hands for some minutes, meditating how he should supply the place of the defunct Beauchamp. In vain he racked his brain; he knew many who would accept the offer, but they were untried.
"This assize will be a hungry feast," he at length exclaimed; "we may bid adieu to the Mitre—I must refund the money I received on account of the witch, and the old Ferrett, too, must have his earnest money—what is to be done? Do ye know any one who could be trusted to stand in the shoes of Beauchamp?"
"We leave the filling up vacancies to our foreman," returned they.
"Aye, aye! ye shrink from responsibility, and throw all on my shoulders," returned Black Jack, snatching up a renewed flagon, and drinking freely, as if to forget his perplexity in the intoxicating influence of the beverage. "Aye, aye! but, knaves, the money ye have received must be refunded, and ye may go starve, or rob, for aught I care."