"And Winchester, you rogue!" exclaimed the colonel, bursting into the room. "Where are our fifty pounds in gold?"
The self-styled merchant of Southampton was terrified at the sight of our sudden appearance. His knees smote together, his jaw dropped, and his lank, raven hair almost stood upright.
Gripping his shoulder, I forced him against the wall, and, thrusting back his sleeve, we discovered a cube of lead similar in shape to the one of silver which still lay on the table. Seeing the deception, the crowd, who had regarded us with little favour, began to cast imprecations on the impostor.
"We'll have this on account," said Colonel Firestone, pocketing the silver. "And now turn out his purse."
Eleven pounds in gold and over a pound in silver and copper were shaken out on the table, the wretched man making no resistance.
"Thirty-eight pounds to the had. What say you, sirrah?" demanded the colonel sternly. "Is it the hangman at Bodmin, where perchance thou'lt be cropped by the ears and branded on the face, and finish by dangling at the end of a stout hempen rope? What say you, I repeat?"
The wretch had sunk on his knees, mumbling incoherently. Suddenly he whipped out a long knife from the folds of his boot and lunged viciously, like a cornered rat, at the colonel. But ere the blow struck home I kicked the weapon from his grasp, sending it spinning to the low, raftered ceiling, where it stuck and vibrated with the force of its ascent.
"Wouldst add attempted murder to the list of your accomplishments?" asked Firestone contemptuously. "'Tis a pity we cannot waste time to see thee spinning round at the end of a halter, but we must needs take the law into our own hands. Canst swim?"
The man shook his head.
"Then up with him and cast him into the river," continued my companion, addressing the surrounding throng.