"Don't provoke him," whispered Ginger, plucking the Tinker's sleeve. "For my part, I shan't stay any longer. I wouldn't take his money." And he quitted the room.
"I'll go and see wot's the matter wi' Ginger," said the Sandman, slinking after him.
The Tinker looked nervously round. He was not proof against his superstitious fears.
"Here, take this purse, and trouble me no more!" cried Auriol.
The Tinker's hands clutched the purse mechanically, but he instantly laid it down again.
"I'm bad enough—but I won't sell myself to the devil," he said.
And he followed his companions.
Left alone, Auriol groaned aloud, and covered his face with his hands. When he looked up, he found the tall man in the black cloak standing beside him. A demoniacal smile played upon his features.
"You here?" cried Auriol.
"Of course," replied the stranger. "I came to watch over your safety. You were in danger from those men. But you need not concern yourself more about them. I have your pocket-book, and the slip of paper that dropped from it. Here are both. Now let us talk on other matters. You have just parted from Ebba, and will see her again this evening."