“Business, say'st thou?” quoth Barter. “What business?”
“Sure, the business on which we came,” Dunne evaded; and he laughed.
It was an answer that left Barter uneasy. Nor was his mind set at rest by the parting words with which Dunne accompanied the half-crown for his services.
“This is but an earnest of what's to come if you will meet me here on Tuesday to show me the way to Moyle's Court again. I shall be bringing two gentlemen with me—wealthy men, of a half-score thousand pounds a year apiece. I tell you there will be a fine booty for my part, so fine that I shall never want for money again all the days of my life. And, so that you meet us here, you too may count upon a handsome reward.”
Consenting, Barter went his ways home. But as he pondered Dunne's silly speech, and marvelled that honest men should pay so disproportionately for an honest service, he came to the reasonable conclusion that he had to do with rebels. This made him so uneasy that he resolved at last to lodge information with the nearest justice.
Now, it happened, by the irony of Fate, that the justice sought by Barter was one Colonel Penruddock—the vindictive son of that Penruddock whom the late John Lisle—whilst Lord President of the High Court—had sentenced to death some thirty years ago for participation in an unsuccessful Wiltshire rising against the Commonwealth.
The colonel, a lean, stark man of forty-five, heard with interest Barter's story.
“Art an honest fellow!” he commended him. “What are the names of these rogues?”
“The fellow named no names, sir.”
“Well, well, we shall discover that for ourselves when we come to take them at this trysting-place. Whither do you say you are to conduct them?”