The young man was as brave as his neighbours, but the hands went up all the same.
“Get down!” said his assailant, curtly.
The young man stepped forth into the road, followed closely by the covering lantern and pistol. Once he made as if he would drop his
hands, but a short, stern word jerked them up again.
“I say, look here, this is rather out o’ date, ain’t it?” said the traveller. “I expect you’re joking—what?”
“Your watch,” said the man behind the Mauser pistol.
“You can’t really mean it!”
“Your watch, I say!”
“Well, take it, if you must. It’s only plated, anyhow. You’re two centuries out in time, or a few thousand miles longitude. The bush is your mark—or America. You don’t seem in the picture on a Sussex road.”
“Purse,” said the man. There was something very compelling in his voice and methods. The purse was handed over.