"Quite so, Mr. Ferguson," Charnock retorted. "But will you take the life?"
The plotter drew back as he had drawn back before. "It is everybody's business," he muttered.
"Then will you take part in it? You are the first to condemn. Will you be one to execute?"
Ferguson moistened his lips with his tongue, and, swallowing with an effort, looked shiftily at me and away again. The sweat stood on his face. For me, I watched him, fascinated; watched him, and still he did not answer.
"Just so," said Charnock, at last. "You will not. And that being so, is there anyone else who will? If not, what is to be done?"
"Put him in a lugger," Keyes cried, "at the bridge; and by morning----"
"He wall be taken off at the Nore," Cassel answered scornfully. "And you too if you think to get off that way. There are more Billops in the Pool than the Billop who gave up Ashton."
"Gag him and leave him here."
"And have him found by the messengers to-morrow morning?" Cassel answered. "As well and better, call a chair, and pay the chairmen, and bid them take him to the Secretary's office with our compliments."
"Well, if not here, in one of the other pens. Ferguson knows plenty."