Of the King’s Treasure
By good fortune that same afternoon I had remarked the office of the Justice, and thither I now made my way with my best speed. I could not forbear a grin to myself to think of me on an enterprise like this, to confront a Justice in his own house. ’Twas pitch and toss at the best, I knew, but I would have the heart out of Timothy Grubbe somehow. So when I was got unto the Justice’s door I knocked smartly for admittance, and presently you might ha’ seen me hob-anobbing with his worship, him all eyes and mouth, listening to my tale.
“How many was there, did you say?” says he.
“There was six of ’em,” I replied, “and bloody butchers all, as this rip in my side will witness.”
“Poor fellow!” says the Justice kindly, “pour yourself another glass;” and looks at me out of his mild eyes with interest. “But you secured one scoundrel,” he says.
“Secured,” says I, “yes; and that’s the fact. Left for dead I was, as I’m telling you, and him standing over the poor dead bodies to
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