"Cold truth, and nothing else," replied the other. "Look you, Doctor Robert Ferguson, methinks we know each other well--at least ’tis time we did. You, for a groat, would kill a man; by the same token, so would I. Let that suffice us both. We came not here to warble sweet religion through our noses, but to bargain. Let us therefore to the business of the night, without more vain pretence, or, by the Lord, I will away and leave you wanting what you hoped to gain." "Enough!" groaned Ferguson. "A godless man is not to be persuaded of his evil-doing." "Nor yet beguiled," snapped Ammon. "Tut, tut, no more of that. You named a price. Let’s see, now" (here I heard him scratch his tousled wig), "was it not fifty guineas?" "The godlessness is on your side, methinks, friend Ferguson," sneered Ammon. "For verily you have a lie upon your lips. Full well you know the price was double that." "What?" cracked Ferguson. "A hundr-r-ed guineas! Why, ’tis shee-r-r madness, man! Pr-r-e-poster-rous!" (His "r’s" rolled like a drum.) "Nathless, ’tis my price," returned the other coldly. "But, man, good man! I have not such a wicked price upon me!" "Another lie! for verily I see your pockets bulging with it. Have a care, friend Ferguson, or it may well go higher still." "Nay, nay, that were impossible. Come, friend, let us bargain fairly. Say eighty guineas, and ’tis yours this instant." "A hundred guineas!" answered Ammon sharply, "and that also instantly, or verily I take the thing away with me for ever. Look you, friend Ferguson, for over half an hour we have sat parleying here, and still you clutch your filthy gold and strive to trick me of my due. Have I not risked my very life to get this paltry thing, and was not the price agreed upon between us? Aye, verily; and unless ’tis paid down now, before these lips of mine have counted ten, that which you crave is gone from you for ever. Methinks I might make more of it elsewhere. One--two----" "Stay! the box is with you, is it?" asked the chaplain, as a man who clutches at a straw. "Fool!" snapped Tubal Ammon. "Have I not told thee so at least a dozen times already. Three--four--five----" "Then prove it! Let me see it. Thou hast not done that yet." "True, by my life, for once. Then here it is. Six----" "Ah, my wee, black, bonny bairn! How dear thou wast to me! Wilt let me hold it, friend?" "Yes, when the gold is counted out. Not till. Seven--eight. Nine!" "Hast the key to it?" "Nay, how should I? But ’tis easily forced open." "Then I must prove the contents ere I pay so vast a sum. That is but fair; for, look you, friend, the box might very well be empty." "’Tis not so," answered Ammon. "Listen!" He shook it, and I heard the fatal papers rustle. "But other papers might have been put in," persisted Ferguson. "Therefore, I say, it must be proven. Burst it open, friend; but have a care in doing so, for verily I love it as a child."