"
Old Bartlemy, as he listened, smiled with the delight of a child. "Said
not the fortune-teller truly?" he cried. "And how much is my fortune
that thou wilt make?"
"Why, that I hardly can tell," returned Humphrey. "What callest thou a
fortune?"
Old Bartlemy looked at him craftily. "The friend to my counsel did say
one hundred and fifty gold pieces, and that will pay for the
disguises."
"No less?" asked Humphrey.
"Nay," returned old Bartlemy. "If thou dost leave me, I may never see
the mole upon thy nose again. Therefore pay to me the one hundred and
fifty gold pieces before I ask thee more. For the friend to my counsel
did say, 'Take no less, and as much more as thou canst get.'"
"Thou art hard to content," said Humphrey. "But come thou to the
nearest reputable inn, where we may be unwatched, and I will pay to
thee the one hundred and fifty gold pieces which thou dost require.
Should they of the street see thee receive it, thou wouldst not keep it
long."
The old man, with a crafty shake of the head, followed along in
Humphrey's wake. "I have the wit to keep my fortune," he said.
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