Bacon pretended to accept the decision and changed the subject.

"Now permit me to approach the theme of my immediate need," he said.

"These bailiffs without--they must be evaded. May I have your a.s.sistance, friend, in this matter?"

"Why--what can I do?"

"Pray observe me with all attention," Bacon began. "These my habiliments are of the latest fashion and of rich texture. Your habit is, if I may so speak, of inferior fashion and substance. I will exchange my habit for yours on this condition--that you mount my horse forthwith and ride away. The moon is bright and you will be pursued at once by these scurvy bailiffs. Lead them astray, Master Droop, to the southward, whilst I slip away to London in your attire, wherein I feel sure no man will recognize me. Once in London, there is a friend of mine--one Master Isaac Burton--who is hourly expected and from whom I count upon having some advances to stand me in present stead. What say you? Will you accept new clothing and rich--for old and worn?"

Droop approached his visitor and slowly examined his clothing, gravely feeling the stuff between thumb and finger and even putting his hand inside the doublet to feel the lining. Bacon's outraged dignity struggled within him with the sense of his necessity. Finally, just as he was about to give violent expression to his impatience, Droop stepped back and took in the general effect with one eye closed and his head c.o.c.ked on one side.

"Jest turn round, will ye?" he said, with a whirling movement of the hand, "an' let me see how it looks in the back?"

Biting his lips, the furious barrister turned about and walked away.

"Needs must where the devil drives," he muttered.

Droop shook his head dismally.

"Marry, come up!" he exclaimed. "I guess I can't make the bargain, friend Bacon."

"But why?"

"I don't like the cut o' them clothes. I'd look rideec'lous in 'em.

Besides, the's too much risk in it, Bacon, my boy," he said, familiarly, throwing himself into the arm-chair and stretching out his legs comfortably. "Ef the knaves was to catch me an' find out the trick I'd played 'em, why, sure as a gun, they'd put me in the lock-up an' try me fer stealin' your duds--your habiliments."

"Nay, then," Bacon exclaimed, eagerly, "I'll give you a writing, Master Droop, certifying that the clothes were sold to you for a consideration.

That will hold you blameless. What say you?"

"What about the horse and the saddle and bridle?"

"These are borrowed from a friend, Master Droop," said Bacon. "These rascals know this, else had they seized them in execution."

"Ah, but won't they seize your clothes, Brother Bacon?" said Droop, slyly.

"Nay--that were unlawful. A man's attire is free from process of execution."

"I'll tell ye wherein I'll go ye," said Droop, with sudden animation.

"You give me that certificate, that bill of sale, you mentioned, and also a first-cla.s.s letter to some lord or political chap with a pull at the Patent Office, an' I'll change clothes with ye an' fool them bailiff chaps."

"I'll e'en take your former offer, then," said Bacon, with a sigh. "One fourth part of all profits was the proposal, was it not?"

"Oh, that's all off!" said Droop, grandly, with a wave of the hand. "If I go out an' risk my neck in them skin-tight duds o' yourn, I get the hull profits an' you get to London safe an' sound in these New Hampshire pants."

"But, good sir----"

"Take it or leave it, friend."

"Well," said Bacon, angrily, after a few moments' hesitation, "have your will. Give me ink, pen, and paper."

These being produced, the barrister curiously examined the wooden penholder and steel pen.

"Why, Master Droop," he said, "from what unknown bird have you plucked forth this feather?"

"Feather!" Droop exclaimed. "What feather?"

"Why this?" Bacon held up the pen and holder.

"That ain't a feather. It's a pen-holder an' a steel pen, man. Say!" he exclaimed, leaning forward suddenly. "Ye hain't ben drinkin', hev ye?"

To this Bacon only replied by a dignified stare and turned in silence to the table.

"Which you agoin' to write first," said Droop, considerately dropping the question he had raised.

"The bill of sale."

"All right. I'd like to have ye put the one about the patent real strong. I don't want to fail on the fust try, you know."

Bacon made no reply, but dipped his pen and set to work. In due time the two doc.u.ments were indited and carefully signed.

"This letter is addressed to my uncle, Lord Burleigh," said Bacon. "He is at the Palace at Greenwich, with the Queen."

"Shall I hev to take it to him myself?"

"a.s.suredly."

"Might hev trouble findin' him, I should think," said Droop.

"Mayhap. On more thought, 'twere better you had a guide. I know a worthy gentleman--one of the Queen's harbingers. Take you this letter to him, for which purpose I will e'en leave it unsealed that he may read it. He will conduct you to mine uncle, for he hath free access to the court."

"What's his name?"

"Sir Percevall Hart. His is the demesne with the high tower of burnt bricks, near the west end of Tower Street. But stay! 'Twere better you did seek him at the Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap."

"Sir Percevall Hart--Boar's Head--Eastcheap. That's in London City, I s'pose."

"Yes--yes," said Bacon, impatiently. "Any watchman or pa.s.ser-by will direct you. Now, sir, 'tis for you to fulfil your promise."

"All right," said Droop. "It's my innin's--so here goes."

In a few minutes the two men had changed their costumes and stood looking at each other with a very evident disrelish of their respective situations.

Droop held his chin high in the air to avoid contact with the stiff ruff, while his companion turned up the collar of his nineteenth-century coat and held it together in front as though he feared taking cold.

"Why, Master Droop," said Bacon, glancing down in surprise at his friend's nether extremities, "what giveth that unwonted spiral look to your legs? They be ribbed as with grievous weals."

Droop tried to look down, but his wide ruff prevented him. So he put one foot on the table and, bringing his leg to the horizontal, gazed dismally down upon it.

"Gosh all hemlock--them's my underdrawers!" he exclaimed. "These here ding-busted long socks o' yourn air so all-fired tight the blamed drawers hez hiked up in ridges all round! Makes me look like a bunch o'