and he huddled
into the pile of heather and slept.

He was awakened by a shout of "Lambert of London, awake!" and tottering
to the window, groaning, he beheld a cold grouse, a three-pound chunk
of venison, two loaves, and a small bottle of whiskey neatly set out on
a napkin. His mouth opened and shut, and opened and shut.

"The letter, rogue! Are you going to give me the letter?" shouted the
Baron Hildebrand Anne fiercely.

Mr. Lambert tore himself from the window, and flung himself down on the
heather, sobbing. "Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!" he moaned,
"Fourteen hundred and fifty pounds!--and costs!" Suddenly his wits
cleared . . . What a fool he'd been! . . . Why shouldn't he give the
boy the letter, and wire countermanding his instructions? . . . Oh, he
had been a fool!

He hurried to the window, and cried, "Yes, yes, I'll give it you! Give
me the paper. I've got a fountain pen!"

"You'd better have a drink of whiskey first; your hand will be too
shaky to write your usual handwriting," said the thoughtful Tinker,
handing him the bottle along with the note-paper.

Mr. Lambert took a drink, and indeed it steadied his hand. Sure that
he could make it useless, he wrote a careful and complete letter, lying
at full length on the floor, his only possible writing table.

He scrambled up, and thrust it through the window, crying, "Here you
are! Let me out!"

Tinker spelled the letter carefully through, and put it into another
letter he had already prepared to send to Sir Tancred's solicitors.
Then he handed the money-lender a thick venison sandwich, cut while he
had been writing.

The tears ran down Mr. Lambert's face as his furious jaws bit into it.

"Don't wolf it!" said Tinker sternly. "Starving men should feed
slowly."

Mr. Lambert had no restraint; he did wolf it. Then he asked for more.

"In a quarter of an hour," said Tinker, and he gave him nothing sooner
for all his clamorous entreaties.

After a second sandwich the money-lender was another man, and Tinker,
seeing that he was not ill, said, "I must be going; I have a long ride
to post this letter"; and he began to hand in the rest of the food
through the window.

"Be careful not to eat it all up at once," he said. "It's got to last
you till to-morrow."

"What's this! What's this!" cried Mr. Lambert. "You promised to
release me when you got the letter!"

"When I get the promissory note, or when my father's solicitor gets it.