Part 8 (1/2)
”What's this gabble to do with me?” broke in Sally, disdainfully.
”Wait a minute. The wench had a friend in the crowd--a man who got her away--d.a.m.n him. I jumped from the coach and we had a set to. See this?”
Scowling ferociously Rofflash pointed to a lump beneath his eye which promised to become a beautiful mouse on the morrow.
”The jackanapes got me on the hop; my foot slipped and s'life, I was down. But for that I'd ha' spitted him like a partridge. By the time I was on my legs the mob were after him. I joined in the hue and cry and we ran him down to your house. Now then, where's his hiding hole? It'll mean a matter o' twenty guineas in your pocket to give him up.”
”Blood money! I don't earn my living that way. You could have spared your breath, Rofflash. The man's not here. I'll show you how he escaped.
Come this way.”
Sally led the fellow to the window overlooking the Black Ditch and told him the story.
”Are you bamboozling me, you jade?” growled Rofflash. ”It would be like you.”
”I daresay it would if it were worth my while but it isn't. Look for yourself. Can't you see the deep foot-prints in the mud?”
The waning moon gave sufficient light to show the black slimy surface of the ditch. An irregularly shaped hole immediately below the window showed where Vane had alighted. Footprints distinct enough indicated the direction taken.
”If you're not satisfied search the house.”
”I'll take your word. Who's your friend? You wouldn't lift your little finger to save a stranger.”
”Who's the girl?” Sally parried in a flash. ”What's she like?”
Rofflash had sharp wits. Cunning was part of his trade.
”Ho ho,” he thought. ”Sits the wind in that quarter? I'll steer accordingly.”
”The girl? As tempting as Venus and a good deal livelier, I'll swear.
'Faith, she's one worth fighting for. I'll do her gallant justice. If he's as handy with his blade as he is with his fists he'll be a pretty swordsman. He'll need all he knows, though,” added Rofflash darkly, ”when I meet him.”
”Yes, when!” echoed Sally sarcastically. ”You'll get no help from me.”
”What! Sally Salisbury handing over the man she fancies to another woman? Is the world coming to an end?”
Rofflash burst into a jeering laugh. It irritated Sally beyond endurance as he intended it should. But it did not provoke the reply he hoped for.
”Mind your own business,” she snapped.
”Why, that's what I'm doing and _my_ business is _yours_. But if you're fool enough to chuck away a handful of guineas, why do it. All I can say is that _my_ man would give you anything you like to ask if you'd open your mouth and tell him where _your_ man is.”
”Then I won't. That's my answer, Jeremy Rofflash. Put it in your pipe and smoke it.”
Rofflash made her a profound bow and smiled mockingly.
”Have your own way, mistress. What about this? Something more in your line, I'll warrant.”
He thrust his hand beneath the upper part of his long flapped waistcoat and drew out a necklace. The pearls of which it was composed were suffused with a pinkish tinge, the ma.s.sive gold clasp gleamed in the lamplight. Sally's eyes flashed momentarily and then became scornful.