He gave no further answer; but he set to and whistled an air from the opera, “What a Blunder.”
“Now, Mr. Brander,” he said, “you have taken time by the forelock, but I have taken him by the nose; so you may e’en go back the way you came, and inform your graceful associates that the master of ‘Delsrop’ is returned to his own.”
He spoke with a very engaging sang-froid; but he was prepared for contingencies. To his surprise the other, after eying him for some moments in a manner of puzzled speculation, shrugged up his shoulders and broke into a gobble of laughter.
“Come,” said the thief, “I will be honest with you, for all the marchand forain I am.”
“A scholar?” said Tuke. “Then you have two weapons to my one. We must stand on even terms before I consent.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the respectable merchant; and, turning his back, he fetched a pistol out of either side-pocket and fired each in turn at the dangling chains of the gallows. Both bullets struck home with a clank; the horses, twenty yards away, started and reared, and the rogue, repouching the smoking barrels, slewed himself about once more.
“Does that satisfy you?” he said. “Now my only weapon is my tongue.”
“It shall carry further than a bullet with me, though I won’t swear it shall speed as true. You have a very pretty aim, Mr. Brander.”
“I learnt to hit a mark when I was a schoolmaster,” said the other dryly. “A settled fly is a fair test of skill. Well, sir, may I crave a confident word with you?”
“The post-boy is out of ear-shot, I think.”