I'll swear now that you set greater store by his heart."
Rofflash glanced shrewdly at Sally's face. Her lips were working
convulsively. He knew he was right.
"You're a cunning devil, captain. You've the wheedling tongue of Satan
himself and his black soul, too, I doubt not. You're all ears and eyes
when money's to be picked up. Take that for what you did for me
to-night."
Sally drew five guineas from her pocket and flung them on the table. A
couple would have rolled on to the floor, but Rofflash grabbed them in
time. Sally burst into one of her hard, mirthless laughs.
"Trust you for looking after coin. See here, you Judas. Vane promised to
meet me at Spring Gardens to-morrow night. When I see him I shall
believe him, not before. You must work it so that he comes."
"Hang me, Sally, but that's a hard nut to crack."
"Not too hard for your tiger's teeth. I'll double those five guineas if
you bring it off."
Rofflash relished the proposition, but he pretended to find difficulties
and held out for higher pay. To Sally money was as water. She agreed to
make the ten into fifteen. Rofflash swearing that he'd do his best, took
his departure and left the lady, like Archibald Dorrimore, to drink
herself into insensibility.
"The devil looks after his own," chuckled Rofflash as he swaggered down
the Strand. "It'll go hard if I don't squeeze fifty guineas out of that
idiot Dorrimore over to-morrow night's work! He'd give that to have the
pleasure of running the scribbler through the body.
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