“Let them make coffee for one,” said Cozma, “I never drink.”
Vasile went off grinning, after a side-glance at his master.
“Ah, you never drink!” said the boyar with an effort. “So, so, you have come on our business—how much? Ah, I am giving fifty ducats.”
“Good!” said Racoare quietly.
Vasile returned, smiling knowingly. The boyar was silent.
“Eh,” said Vasile, scratching his head, “how are you getting on?”
“Good Vasile, go and fetch the purse from under my pillow.”
“No, there is no need to give me a purse,” said the highwayman, “I have no need of money.”
“What?” murmured the boyar. “Ah, yes! You do not need? Why?”
“The thing is to put the Sultana of Frasini into your arms—I hand you over the lady, and you hand me the money.”