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"
My lord, this casket contains two thousand guineas which her gracious
Majesty the Queen has sent you for your present wants."
Gwynplaine made a movement.
"That shall be for my Father Ursus," he said.
"So be it, my lord," said Barkilphedro. "Ursus, at the Tadcaster Inn.
The Serjeant of the Coif, who accompanied us hither, and is about to
return immediately, will carry them to him. Perhaps I may go to London
myself. In that case I will take charge of it."
"I shall take them to him myself," said Gwynplaine.
Barkilphedro's smile disappeared, and he said,--"Impossible!"
There is an impressive inflection of voice which, as it were, underlines
the words. Barkilphedro's tone was thus emphasized; he paused, so as to
put a full stop after the word he had just uttered. Then he continued,
with the peculiar and respectful tone of a servant who feels that he is
master,--
"My lord, you are twenty-three miles from London, at Corleone Lodge,
your court residence, contiguous to the Royal Castle of Windsor. You are
here unknown to any one. You were brought here in a close carriage,
which was awaiting you at the gate of the jail at Southwark. The
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