"Your pardon, captain," he continued more calmly. "But an it please you, we have taken Sir Rupert Winslow himself."
It was now Captain Protheroe's turn to betray excitement.
"Taken Sir Rupert Winslow! Why, fellow, 'tis impossible. You are dreaming."
"Dreaming or no," answered the corporal sulkily, "he is without. We spied him skulking round the stables to the back o' the Inn. I doubt not wi' intent to steal a fresh horse. There we ambushed him. He made a fierce resistance, but," with an air of supreme complaisance, "I soon overpowered him."
"The devil take the rash fool!" muttered the captain. "Well, bring him in, corporal. And do you see that the men get to rest, we must be off at daybreak to-morrow. I will see to the security of the prisoner."
The corporal saluted, and a moment later ushered his prisoner into the room.
Captain Protheroe looked up curiously at his entrance, and for some minutes silently surveyed him, until the prisoner, weary of such intent scrutiny, tossed his hat on to the table, and flung himself back into a chair with a half-embarrassed, half-reckless air.
The captain broke the silence.
"This is a strange ending, sir, to so lengthy a chase," he said gravely.
"Ah, well! 'twas bound to end sooner or later, and as well this way as another," he answered with a short laugh. "In truth, 'twas a hole and corner business, and I am weary of it."