"I have a small matter afoot to-morrow night," replied Ravenshaw, gruffly, "wherein I can employ a man like you, and three or four under him."
"Troth!" said Tom, becoming consequential, "I have some affairs of my own to-morrow night, and that's the hell of it."
"Then good night to you!"
"Oh, stay, captain!—I had some slight business; but to serve you, captain—"
"You bottle-ale rogue, think not to cozen me into a higher price. Affairs of your own!—no more of that. Shall we deal, or no?"
"Oh, I am all yours, captain. For you, I would put myself out any day. Say on."
"Then you are first to raise four stout fellows whom you can trust as you do your false dice or your right hand."
"They are near. Trust me for 'em."
"At sunset to-morrow, you and your men, all well armed, and furnished with lights, be in waiting before the White Horse tavern in Friday Street,—that is to say, loitering in a manner not to make people inquisitive. There will come to you anon a young gentleman—with a young woman. The gentleman is one you have seen. He was with me the night you turned tail to those counterfeit roaring boys."
"I have seen him with you since,—a lean, clerkly man."