"Well! as I have said, I have a score to settle with the rogue. He stole fifty guineas from me last night."
"Ah me!" sighed Jack, with a melancholy shake of the head, "then I fear me he'll never haunt the Heath again."
"What mean you, sir?"
"Nay! I can picture the rascal now, after you, sir, had punished him for his impudence! A mangled, bleeding wreck! But there! I have no pity for him! Daring to measure his valour against your noted prowess!"
"Quite so! quite so!" quoth his Honour, whilst smothering a curse at this more obvious piece of insolence.
"But I entreat your pardon. I was interrupting the story."
"I saw the rogue, sir," said Sir Humphrey, glancing significantly at the young man, "saw him clearly by the light of my carriage lanthorns. He was masked, of course, but I'd know him anywhere, and could denounce him to-morrow."
He had risen to his feet, and with legs apart, standing face to face with Bathurst, he spoke every word as if he meant them to act as a threat.
"There are plenty of soldiers about these parts now, even if the country folk won't touch their vaunted hero of romance. I could get him hanged, sir, within a week. A cordon of soldiers round this Heath, my word to swear his identity, and.... But there!" he added with a jovial laugh, "'tis no concern of yours is it, sir? You were kind enough to promise me your advice. This is one of my alternatives, the score I'd wish to settle; there's still the business I could offer the rogue."
Sir Humphrey had looked the young man squarely in the face whilst he uttered his threat, but had seen nothing there, save the merriest, the most light-hearted of smiles.