"Thank 'ee—I—I niver tak' tea."
"Take it to-night, then. It will do you good."
Spink put the cup to his lips, and a look of deep surprise overspread his rugged countenance as he sipped the contents. The captain nodded. Spink's look of surprise changed into a confidential smile; he also nodded, winked, and drained the cup to the bottom.
"Yes," resumed the captain; "you mean that you did not take the case of jewels from old Brand's pocket on that day when you found his body on the Bell Rock, though you were present, and saw your comrade pocket the booty. You see I know all about it, Davy, an' your only fault lay in concealing the matter, and in keepin' company with that scoundrel."
The gaze of surprise with which Spink listened to the first part of this speech changed to a look of sadness towards the end of it.
"Captain Ogilvy," said he, in a tone of solemnity that was a strong contrast to his usual easy, careless manner of speaking, "you ca'd me an honest man, an' ye think I'm clear o' guilt in this matter, but ye're mista'en. Hoo ye cam' to find oot a' this I canna divine, but I can tell ye somethin' mair than ye ken. D'ye see that bag?"
He pulled a small leather purse out of his coat pocket, and laid it with a little bang on the table.
The captain nodded.
"Weel, sir, that was my share o' the plunder, thretty goolden sovereigns. We tossed which o' us was to hae them, an' the siller fell to me. But I've niver spent a boddle o't. Mony a time have I been tempit, an' mony a time wad I hae gi'en in to the temptation, but for a certain lass ca'd Janet, that's been an angel, it's my belief, sent doon frae heeven to keep me frae gawin to the deevil a'thegither. But be that as it may, I've brought the siller to them that owns it by right, an' so my conscience is clear o't at lang last."
The sigh of relief with which Davy Spink pushed the bag of gold towards his companion, showed that the poor man's mind was in truth released from a heavy load that had crushed it for years.