The rogue flung his hands in front of him, and clasped them there.
“This, you will admit,” he said quietly, “is a gross outrage. I have done nothing to deserve it. I take post on my own concerns, and am wantonly driven to this pass with any possibility of consequences.”
“For which you have yourself to thank. There must be two to a hunt. Had you not fled I had not driven.”
“Surely, sir, it is excusable to fly a danger, and for an innocent traveller to read evil in one who spurs after him along a lonely road?”
Mr. Tuke permitted himself a spirt of merriment.
“Ingeniously argued,” said he. “So I am the highwayman? Well, I call upon you to stand and deliver.”
“Indeed, sir, I have nothing worth your consideration.”
“Pardon me. Your sudden flight thitherwards, at the moment you imagined me established and occupied in London, is a matter very well worth my consideration.”
“You are mistaken. How could I know of your presence in London? You will observe I make no pretence of ignorance as to your identity.”
“That is modest of you.”