"Ten guineas!" echoed Samuel, with a falling countenance. "They can not be so very important, after all, if that’s all they’re worth." "How much did you expect?" demanded Beachcombe, who hated parting with his money, and was still writhing under the agony of having had to disburse so considerable a sum already over this affair. "Considering the risk, I think I ought to have a hundred pounds," pleaded Samuel, trembling at his own audacity. "A hundred devils!" growled Beachcombe; "do you think I am made of money?" "It’s well worth it, my Lord," urged Samuel. "You don’t know the risk I run, even if the captain is in jail. And why wouldn’t he get out? He’s been there before and cheated the hangman; he’s as artful as a fox, and has more friends than you and I know of." Beachcombe reflected a while. "Well, bring the documents to my house and you shall have the hundred pounds. But if you ever betray the slightest knowledge of them, it will be worse for you than if the captain, as you call him, escaped from prison and came after you with all his friends." "They’re in a sealed packet, my Lord, and if I break the seal you can keep your money," said Samuel, growing bolder, as a confederacy in dishonor brought the haughty peer nearer to his level. Beachcombe signified his acceptance of the compact and walked over to the window, while Mr. Perry gave Samuel instructions how to make sure of the packet falling into no other than the right hands. "God’s death!" Beachcombe suddenly exclaimed, in so strange a voice, that the others hurried to the window and looked anxiously out to see what had befallen. The street was perfectly quiet. A couple of barristers, with their gowns tucked up, stood talking and laughing, a street vendor shouted the praises of his wares, a slatternly woman, with a baby in her arms and another clinging to her skirt, lounged under the trees opposite, and the group of constables, still expectant, chewed straws and spat them out in the gutter, with the utter absence of hurry so frequently observed in men whose time is owned and paid for by the government. Nothing else was in sight. "What are those men waiting for?" roared Beachcombe. "Is that scoundrel hiding in this house? Call them in, Perry, and make them search every corner. By Heaven! if you have let him slip through your fingers—" "Do you mean the captain?" asked the trembling clerk. "He went out half an hour ago, just before me and Mr. Double." "And no one stopped him? He passed through the constables unchallenged? It is collusion; they shall hang for it. Give me my hat, Perry—" Samuel flew to obey, and after a brief search, emerged from beneath a table with a somewhat weather-beaten beaver, turned up with a silver buckle.