Patience still stood rigid, expectant, terrified in the darker corner of the shed. She had not yet realised whether she dared to hope, whether this young stranger, with his pleasant, boyish voice and debonnair manner, would have the power to stay the hand of Fate, which was even now raised against her brother.
Betty, behind her mistress, was too terrified to speak.
But already the Sergeant had recovered from his momentary surprise. At mention of the stranger's military rank he had raised his hand to his tricorne hat. Now he was ready to perform his duty, and gladly noted the smith's less aggressive attitude.
"At your service, Captain," he said, "and now I have my orders. I've a right o' search and..."
But like veritable quicksilver, Captain Bathurst was upon him in a moment.
"A right o' search!" he said excitedly. "A right o' search, did you say, Sergeant? Odd's my life, but I'm in luck! Sergeant, you're the very man for me."
And he pulled the Sergeant by the sleeve.
"I pray you, sir..." protested the latter.
But the young man was not to be denied.
"Sergeant," he whispered significantly, "would you like to earn a hundred guineas?"