"Just so," said Mr. Dockett. "Well, I think I'll get into my trap. Good-night, gentlemen. Good-night, señor."
Leicester, who had kept his face turned away as much as possible, bowed gravely, and muttered good-night in Spanish.
As he did so Mr. Dockett, who had risen, plumped down on the side of the cart again and looked at him out of the corner of his eyes.
"Been long in England, señor?" he asked.
"The gentleman doesn't speak English," said Mr. Thaxton.
"Just ask him, will you, sir?" said Mr. Dockett, with a pleasant smile.
Mr. Thaxton jabbered something meant to imitate Spanish, and Leicester, who, notwithstanding his perilous position, could scarcely restrain his laughter, answered him.
Again, at the sound of Leicester's voice, Mr. Dockett got a little closer and eyed him.
Then he rose.
"Ah," he said, "get a bad opinion of England if he gets robbed like this; this chap tried to pick his pocket?"