“A youth called Ned Warbeck. I met him on the road: he has been to this inn once to-night, has he not landlord?”
“I believe he has,” was the innkeeper’s answer.
“But where is this Bob Bertram, then?” said Captain Jack impatiently.
“There!” said Redgill, pointing to where Bob Bertram sat. “I know him, so does the landlord, and so does that thin-legged groom in the corner.”
But they held their peace.
“Scoundrel!” said Bob Bertram, rising instantly. “Scoundrel!” he said, and fired at the informer.
Redgill anticipated something of this sort, and dodged so cleverly that the shot missed its aim.
In a second, Bob Bertram was surrounded by Captain Jack’s party.
He fought most manfully to get loose from his assailants, but they were too numerous for him.
Besides that, his confinement and anxiety for the past few days had weakened him very much, so that he did not at the moment possess one-third of his ordinary strength.