" The fellow touched his
hat. "Two casks stove by the edge o' the table. I felt around the
staves, an' counted six others, hale an' tight. Thinks I, 'tis what
their Worships will have been keepin' for private use, between
whiles. Or elst--"
"Or else?"
"Or else maybe we've tapped a private cellar."
Lord Rattley slapped his thigh.
"A _cache_, by Jove! Old Squire Nicholas--I remember, as a boy,
hearing it whispered he was hand-in-glove with the Free Trade."
The prisoner touched his hat humbly.
"This bein' a magistrates' matter, m' lord, an' me not wishin' to
interfere--"
"Quite so." Lord Rattley felt in his pockets. "You have done us a
considerable service, my man, and--er--that bein' so--"
"Forty shillin' it was. _He's_ cheap at it"--with a nod towards the
Admiral. "A real true-blue old English gentleman! You can always
tell by their conversations."
"The fine shall be paid."
"I counted six casks, m'lord, so well as I could by the feel--"
"Yes, yes! And here's a couple of sovereigns for yourself--all I
happen to have in my pocket--"
Lord Rattley bustled off to the house for brandy.
"England's old England, hows'ever you strike it!" chirruped the
prisoner gleefully, and touched his forehead again.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130