“Mr. Bolton, I’m sure you are right, and very kind to come here and warn me!”
“Oh, no thanks; it is a duty we owe one to another as men and Christians,” said Bolton, with a very pious air. “I was well armed myself, and though I am much pressed for time, I thought I would call and see you; fore-warned is fore-armed.”
“True, sir, true; and what would you have me do?”
“Do? that depends. Have you any servants about you that you can arm?”
“Not one, save an old woman I keep as housekeeper, more out of charity than anything else; all the rest are at the ‘Black Bull,’ having a dance and supper.”
“I see, I see,” said Bolton, biting his lip. “Well, you don’t want your son’s guilt exposed before the whole village, do you?”
“No! true, sir, true; he is my son, and, with all his faults, I don’t want to heap more shame on his head and mine.”
“Then I’ll tell you what to do.”
“What?”
“Send your old servant down to the two village constables with a private message, telling them all about the intended robbery; they will then come up and remain with you all night, and all will be well.”