"Why, look you," answered Ammon, after fumbling in his coat, "see here--this tiny bow and arrows; things for boys to play with, say you? And yet a prick from one of them would kill the strongest man within an hour. Naught could save him, for they are dipped in deadliest poison." "No, no! away with them! away with them!" cried Ferguson. "I could not think of it. ’Twere cruel, heathenish, nay, worse, ’twere rankly wicked!" "Then, verily, our sense of wickedness is far from tallying, friend," sneered Ammon. "Killing is killing, as it seems to me, and the way of doing it makes little difference." "Yes, but poison, friend, poison, I say, were cruel, heathenish; any way but that!" "Well, we will leave the way, then. You want this man, this Gilbert Fane--well, let us say, removing. Is that so?" "Yes; for not only do I hate him, but I also fear him somewhat." "And you would have me do it for you?" "Yes." "Then I will do it--at a price." "Price!" snapped Ferguson. "Oh, thou grasping, greedy fellow. Doth not the hundred guineas cover this small extra service also?" "Nay, by life it doth not," answered Ammon slowly. "One bargain doth not drive a second." "Well, well," groaned Ferguson. "What is your price, then? Name it." "Ten guineas." "What!" almost shrieked the chaplain. "Ten guineas just to kill a man?" "Yes, and a low price too. I run great risk in doing it." "Oh, thou extortioner! thou greedy leech! But, come, ’tis surely but a jest. Say five and I am with thee." "Ten guineas." "Eight." "Ten." "No, no! I will not pay a sum so wicked." "Then Gilbert Fane lives on for all I care, and with him, as you just now showed, your fear and hatred of the man." "O Lord!" sighed Ferguson, "when will this cruel bleeding of me cease? Right well hast thou been named, thou godless, grasping Jew; for was not Tubal one of Shylock’s friends? But, say, if I agree with thee, when wilt thou wipe this fellow off the earth? The Duke rides forth from Lyme within a day or two, and I would be assured that Gilbert Fane is dead before I leave. What, then?" "He shall be dead before this time to-morrow," answered Tubal Ammon firmly. "But what proof shall I have that it is so?" "Good proof, sure proof, a proof there can be no gainsaying." "Name it, then." "The key that fits that box," replied the other slowly. "It hangs by a ribbon round his neck. I saw it as I watched him through the window. That will I bring as proof." "Enough, then; ’tis a bargain. Bring me that key and I will pay thy cruel, wicked price. And now let me away before I am clean ruined."