“Dost thou know that youth?” he asked of the landlord.
“The son of Sir Walter Trevannion.”
“He lives near here?”
“Yes, at Trevannion Hall.”
He returned to Cuthbert.
“My lad,” he said, “I owe thee many thanks, and grieve that I may not stay longer to repay them than suffices to discuss this sack; my road now lies to Moreton, and I shall soon have quitted these parts; perhaps I may call some future day upon thy father, who, I hear, lives near, to thank thee in his presence.”
“I may go then, sir?”
“With my best thanks; nay, wear this chain as a memento of the giver and the Gubbings; fare thee well.”
And Cuthbert hastened home.
But Sir John remained yet a little while, seated in the saddle, as he made several innocent enquiries of the landlord.