"Not I," said the Portingal; "I only ask two hundred angels more. Why, an indulgence will cost me half the pay. It's very dear drowning a man. If you like me to take him and leave him in Turkey with the Ottomites, I will do it for the two; but if I send him to Cornwall, he! he! he! you shall give me four." "But how shall I know that it is done?" said Sir Payan, thoughtfully. "But that must be trusted to. You are not such a child as to be pitiful. _Men_ know how to avenge themselves, and you heard his boast of having scourged you. If you be a man, then do not forget it." "Forget it!" cried the Portingal, his dark brows knitting till they almost hid his eyes; "give me the order under your hand, and fear not." "What! an order to murder him!" cried Sir Payan. "Think you my brain is turned?" "No, no! You have the wrong," said the Portingal; "I mean an order to take him to Cornwall. It shall be very easy to drop him by the way. If I was exorbitant, as you call me, I had make you pay more, because for why, I know you would eat your hand to get rid of him; else why have you make me bring you news of him when he was in Flanders? Why you pay three spies two crowns the month to give you news every step he took? Oh! I know it all. But it is this: I am an honest merchant and no rogue, and when I pop him in the sea I do a little bit of my own business and a big bit of yours, so I do not charge you so much as if it was all yours. Is not that honest?" "Honest!" said Sir Payan, with a grim smile; "yes, very honest. But mark me, Sir Captain! I'll have some assurance of you. Thus shall it be: I'll give you a warrant to take him to Cornwall, but you shall sign me a promise to drop him overboard by the way, so that there be no peaching; for when our necks are in the same halter, each will take care not to draw the cord on his fellow, lest he be hanged himself." "Well, well," said the Portingal, "that's all right. No fear of me, and you will not for your own sake. But look here, Sir Payan. What have you intended to do with the other man that was taken with him, as they tell me, who was at the inn-house, and will tell it to all the world? He's the fat clothier; give him to me too, and let my men have the clearing of his bags. You owe them something for the job, and one has had his head broke, and will die by the time he is aboard. Besides, they were never paid for bringing you up the whole cargo of strong wine, five years past, which was paid for by Dudley, the sequestrator." "Then he should have paid for the carriage," said Sir Payan. "But he never got it!" cried the Portingal. "You kept all when you heard he was in prison, good Sir Payan; and when they did take his head off, you drank the wine yourself. But say, will you, or will you not, let my men have all that is inside that fat clothesman's bags, and I will take him, so that you shall never see him again? If not, your whole business shall soon be known by everybody in the world by his tongue."