But Vane's pocket's as empty as mine.
Where's the coin to come from?"
"You're a damned liar and an ingrained rogue by nature, Tom Jarvis, but
I'll have to trust you for once. Here's half a guinea. It should more
than pay for the wine and the wherry to Spring Gardens. Keep faith with
me, you rascal, or I'll half wring your head from your shoulders and
give you a free taste of what's bound to come to you some day--the rope
at Tyburn."
Jarvis grinned in sickly fashion and swore by all that was unholy to
carry out his orders strictly. Rofflash then strode away.
How Jarvis contrived to lure Vane to Spring Gardens is not of much
consequence. The fellow had a soft, slimy tongue and an oily manner.
Moreover, Rofflash's shrewd guess at Vane's absence of will power after
a drinking bout was verified to the letter.
The passage up the river from St. Paul's Stairs was pleasant enough. The
wherry made its way through a crowd of boats bound for the Gardens,
though the season had hardly begun. Not a few of the craft had for their
passengers fashionable ladies masked and unmasked, with their cavaliers
more or less noisy with wine. Numberless and not particularly refined
were the jests exchanged between the occupants of the various boats.
Sometimes the watermen struck in and masters of slang and coarse wit as
they were, and possessed of infinite impudence, the journey was marked
by plenty of liveliness.
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