“We have tried it.”
“But here is a pretty tale that could be told. Why, souse me in vinegar, one only has to lie hard enough in this world—see things crooked! Supposing I and my two fellows dream that we found——”
He painted the picture with a few coarse flourishes, and Geraint wriggled in his chair.
“Great, sweet gossip—great! But supposing he calls for a court?”
“Let him have it. He can call no witnesses. Madame Mellis will not be forthcoming, and we shall be ready to swear—for the jest of it. Of course a gold piece or two for my fellows! These little mazes please me, gossip; brains—brains! I’m tickled by a rebus! Now—what of it?”
Geraint stretched out one of his hairy paws.
“A bargain, Vance.”
“I’ll hold the debt over you, and call it some day. Prayers put up for me in Paradise—hey! No, a priest may be useful on occasions.”
Half an hour later he called his men, mounted his horse, and set out for the Black Moor.