Of the Man from Cornwall
“Sir Ralph,” says I sharply, for I would put up with this no longer, “an’ this business is to be done, it must be done in your presence. I shall be obliged, therefore, for your face.”
He whipped round quickly and shot an angry glance at me.
“Nay, my good scoundrel,” he said. “’Tis not a job to my stomach. A turnkey shall serve your turn.”
Thereupon he was stamping towards the door when I stopped him.
“Sir Ralph,” says I in another voice, “there’s need for you and me to finish this matter atween us. ’Tis true that the gentleman yonder has about him certain papers of value. I had it from himself. Moreover, ’tis certain also that I know where they are hid.”
Baverstock glared at me, and Sir Ralph bit his lip and frowned.
“Well?” he cried impatiently.
I laughed. “Turn the key i’ the lock, Sir Ralph,” says I, “for the opportunity of our quarrel is now come, and we must risk no interception.”
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