I stared at him in amazement.
“I have not the honour to know you,” said I, walking on.
But he followed, linking his arm in mine.
“Come now,” said he; “you know me well enough. But be assured you have nothing to fear from me if you are open. Your name is well-known at the Castle as a leader of the conspiracy, and a friend of Lord Edward’s. A word from me, and you would get free board and lodging in Newgate, if not a yard or two of rope thrown in; but I have no wish to hurt you. These are dangerous times, though.”
“I tell you, sir,” repeated I, “I am not the man you take me for, so kindly address yourself to some one else.”
“Tush!” said he, “what’s the use between friends? Tim Gallagher is as well-known a name as O’Connor’s.”
Tim Gallagher! Then they took me for Tim, not myself.
“And what information is it you want, and for whom?” I demanded, trying to conceal my curiosity.
“Turn up here; it’s quieter,” said he, drawing me into a side street, “and I’ll tell you. I’ve no commission, mind you, but I’ll undertake to say your candour will be worth a couple of hundred pounds in your pocket within twenty-four hours.”
“Go on,” said I, feeling my toes tingling to kick this man, who could suppose Tim Gallagher a common informer.