"Hast read them?"
"Of course."
"What is in them?"
"Maybe truth, maybe idle tales; their value remains to be proven. Come, thou hast thy packet; give me mine."
A cunning gleam came into the sailor's eyes. "I have not read thine. Can we fairly cry quits until I have done so?"
Basil bit his lip. "Canst read?"
"No."
"Then let me read them to thee. They are part of a treatise on philosophy which I am writing. The opinion of a plain man upon it would be valuable. I should like to have thine."
But Dan was no philosopher, and his present adversary had given him an excellent lesson in caution. He thrust his own packet into his doublet, to lie side by side with the other papers.
"Master Priest, Papist, and spy of Spain—for so I learn thou art—thy work is more likely to be the hatching of plots than the writing of learned books. Thou didst keep my papers for a time quite against my will, and without my consent; therefore shall I hold thine until I learn their contents. Tit for tat is reasonable justice 'twixt man and man."