Before long they hove in sight of Lancelot Vane. He too was hurrying
and looking right and left as he went. And he was alone.
"The girl's fooled him," muttered Dorrimore between his set teeth. "That
wouldn't matter a tinker's curse, but she's fooled us as well. Rofflash,
I've a mind to pick a quarrel with the fellow and pink him."
"And get yourself landed in Newgate. Don't you know, sir, it's against
the law to draw a sword in the Park? If you're going to be so mad, I'll
say good evening. I'll have nought to do with such folly. We'll find
some other way to lay the spark by the heels and have the girl as well.
My advice is not to show yourself or you'll put him on his guard."
Dorrimore, whose head was not particularly strong, had had a couple of
bottles with his dinner to give him spirit for the enterprise, and he
allowed himself to be persuaded. He and Rofflash betook themselves to
the coach which landed them at a tavern in St. James's Street, where
Dorrimore drank and drank until he fell under the table and was carried
out by a couple of waiters, put in a hackney coach and conveyed to his
chambers in the Temple.
Rofflash left his patron at the tavern long before this period arrived.
He was on the search for Mistress Salisbury and knowing her haunts
pretty well, he ran her to earth at a house of questionable repute in
the neighbourhood of Charing Cross.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217