"When is the other to suffer?"
"Twelve to-morrow."
"Seems short time. Humph! Will you be good enough to take a line to the sheriff? Formal message to-morrow." The actual message ran:—
"Delay execution of Cox till we hear from Windsor. Bearer will give reasons."
With this Bradbury hurried away, not to the sheriff, but to the prison, and infected the jailor and the chaplain and all the turnkeys, with pity for the condemned, and the spirit of delay.
Bradbury breakfasted, and washed his face, and off to the sheriff. Sheriff was gone out. Bradbury hunted him from pillar to post, and could find him nowhere. He was at last obliged to go and wait for him at Newgate.
He arrived at the stroke of twelve to superintend the execution. Bradbury put the minister's note into his hand.
"This no use," said he. "I want an order from His Majesty, or the Privy Council at least."
"Not to delay," suggested the chaplain. "You have an the day for it."
"All the day! I can't be all the day hanging a single man. My time is precious, gentlemen." Then, his bark being worse than his bite, he said, "I shall come again at four o'clock, and then, if there is no news from Windsor, the law must take its course."