‘Damn the money!’ I cried.
‘What?’ he exclaimed, scarcely believing his ears.
‘Let the money be!’ I repeated fiercely. ‘Do you hear? I have not come about it, I am here to offer you work—good, well-paid work—if you will enlist with me and play me fair, Fresnoy.’
‘Play fair!’ he cried with an oath.
‘There, there,’ I said, ‘I am willing to let bygones be bygones if you are. The point is, that I have an adventure on hand, and, wanting help, can pay you for it.’
He looked at me cunningly, His eye travelling over each rent and darn in my doublet. ‘I will help you fast enough,’ he said at last. ‘But I should like to see the money first.’
‘You shall,’ I answered.
‘Then I am with you, my friend. Count on me till death!’ he cried, rising and laying his hand in mine with a boisterous frankness which did not deceive me into trusting him far. ‘And now, whose is the affair, and what is it?’
‘The affair is mine,’ I said coldly. ‘It is to carry off a lady.’
He whistled and looked me over again, an impudent leer in his eyes. ‘A lady?’ he exclaimed. ‘Umph! I could understand a young spark going in for such—but that’s your affair. Who is it?’