Tom Bates was thunderstruck, and sat upon the floor looking at the stranger with eyes of wonderment.
His friends were equally astonished, and for a moment it looked as if the whole party were intent on slaying the new comer.
“Stand back,” said he, waving them off; “put up your sword. I fear ye not, vagabonds, but listen to me; if one dare approach nearer I’ll scalp him.”
There was so much of determination, and an air of superiority about him, that all stood still and looked at him as if transfixed to the spot.
“Listen to me, knaves,” said he, eyeing every one of them with a keen look. “How many chief high roads are there leading out of London?”
“Thirteen,” Captain Jack answered, after a moment’s thought. “But what has that got to do with us?”
“Much more than you imagine. Since you left London, a new gibbet has been erected on each of those thirteen highways, just where they branch off at the cross roads.”
“Well!” said all in a breath, “and what of that? I don’t understand what all of this means.”
“But I do! It means this: those gibbets have been raised at the sole expense of a particular friend of yours.”
“For whom?”