Some twelve yards farther on I once more stopped to listen, and thus discovered that the talkers were on the far side of a ridge or hillock up which I had commenced to climb; and what was more, I made out that which stiffened me with dread, and set my heart off thumping like a hammer. For now I was near enough to separate the voices, low though they were, and one of them spoke in broadest Scotch--'twas Ferguson's; while the other there was no mistaking either--Tubal Ammon's!
Digging my fingers deep into the turf, for very fear lest overmastering astonishment should cause me to exclaim and so betray myself, I paused a moment, then, with cat-like stealth, crept up the bank.
'Twas a risky, daring business sure enough; the snapping of a twig, the rattle of a stone, and I had brought on me two desperate fellows, who would as soon take life as toss a penny. Still, as it seemed to me, 'twas worth a world of danger--nay, 'twas a stroke of glorious luck--to come thus on those two arch-plotters in their midnight tryst, catch them red-handed, as it were, and, perchance, confound them. And had I needed any goad to urge me forward (which I did not), there was the thought of him whom I had wronged, and who doubtless even then sat lonely and distracted in his study, brooding helplessly upon the dangers which beset him.
Thus I crept up, foot by foot--nay, inch by inch were nearer to the mark, my going was so slow--until at last I was near enough to make out wellnigh every word as it was spoken. Then, stretched full length upon the cool, soft turf, I lay there with a thumping heart and listened, drinking in all I heard as greedily as ever thirst-parched man drank water.
"'Tis so, then," Ferguson was saying; "you come here to drive a hard and grievous bargain, eh?"
"Aye, truly," answered Ammon; "no words could put it better: a bargain--a hard and grievous bargain if you will."
"And not to serve the godly cause?" whined Ferguson.
"Pish to your godly cause!" sneered Ammon. "I trow its value is the same to both of us--and that is money."
"What's that?" returned the chaplain fiercely.
"Cold truth, and nothing else," replied the other. "Look you, Doctor Robert Ferguson, methinks we know each other well--at least 'tis time we did. You, for a groat, would kill a man; by the same token, so would I. Let that suffice us both. We came not here to warble sweet religion through our noses, but to bargain. Let us therefore to the business of the night, without more vain pretence, or, by the Lord, I will away and leave you wanting what you hoped to gain."