“Nay, I took in two on such complaints this morning, but to-night I shall hail in a blasphemer.”
“Hardly to-night,” thought Tabbard, and then he added aloud, “Doth not thy conscience prick thee at times for dragging such men to jail?”
“I am but an instrument of the law,” replied the constable in deep tones, at the same time striking his chest with his fingers evidently in imitation of the voice and action of the Lord High Sheriff. “The man who should have cold sweats is the accuser, the public informer.”
“Are there many of such curs?”
“Enough to keep us busy,” answered Gyves.
“And who has held thy nose to the hot scent?”
“Out cow-herd! I like not thy terms of address,” exclaimed Gyves, bringing his fist down with a ring upon the table, “A hot scent with a nose upon it raises the figure of a dog. It takes no keen wit to see that. And as thou hast called it my nose, then forsooth, I am the dog.”
“Nay, nay!” exclaimed Tabbard, “I meant no offense. Here, I clink glasses with thee as evidence of good-fellowship.”
They raised the glasses of wine which the drawer had set before them.
“Who was the accuser of the man you bear a warrant for?”