"Easily. The witness named Tarrant is in my employment. He declares that the judge made an effort to have him accidentally killed, not unwisely, perhaps, for the man has in his possession a scrap of writing which would ruin the judge."
"It is a lie."
"I have seen the writing," said Rosmore. "I could lay the case before Jeffreys whilst he is in Dorchester. That might make a sensation. Amongst the gibbeted wretches we might see hanging one of the judges who had been sent to punish them; that would be more original than a court hung with scarlet."
Marriott sat down slowly.
"Your glass is empty, let me fill it," said Rosmore. "Shall we say five hundred guineas for the two orders, no further questions asked, and presently, when the prisoners are in safety, the return of that incriminating scrap of paper?"
"You swear that—"
"My dear Marriott, I have not mentioned the name of the judge, why tell me what you chance to know of the story?"
"You shall have the orders," Said Marriott.
"Here are paper, ink, and pen."
Rosmore watched him as he wrote.