Apparently, Jonathan perceived he was an object of scrutiny; for, hastily dismissing his attendant, he walked towards the knight.
“So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland,” he remarked, with a sinister smile; “it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull,” he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, “once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. When I've placed another skull and another halter beside them, I shall be contented.”
“To business, Sir!” said the knight, with a look of abhorrence.
“Ay, to business,” returned Jonathan, grinning, “the sooner the better.”
“Here is the sum you bargained for,” rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; “count it.”
Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes.
“You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland,” he said, after he had twice counted them, “or I've missed my reckoning. There's a hundred pounds too much.”
“Keep it,” said Trenchard, haughtily.
“I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland,” answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. “And now, shall we proceed to Queenhithe?”
“Stay!” cried the other, taking a chair, “a word with you, Mr. Wild.”