“My dear Sir Richard—!”
“I must have them, or I must search the house; and you would not put either yourself or me to so shameful a necessity?”
“My dear Sir Richard!—”
“Must I, then, ask you to stand back from your own doorway, my dear sir?” said Grenville. And then changing his voice to that fearful lion's roar, for which he was famous, and which it seemed impossible that lips so delicate could utter, he thundered, “Knaves, behind there! Back!”
This was spoken to half-a-dozen grooms and serving-men, who, well armed, were clustered in the passage.
“What? swords out, you sons of cliff rabbits?” And in a moment, Sir Richard's long blade flashed out also, and putting Mr. Leigh gently aside, as if he had been a child, he walked up to the party, who vanished right and left; having expected a cur dog, in the shape of a parish constable, and come upon a lion instead. They were stout fellows enough, no doubt, in a fair fight: but they had no stomach to be hanged in a row at Launceston Castle, after a preliminary running through the body by that redoubted admiral and most unpeaceful justice of the peace.
“And now, my dear Mr. Leigh,” said Sir Richard, as blandly as ever, “where are my men? The night is cold; and you, as well as I, need to be in our beds.”
“The men, Sir Richard—the Jesuits—they are not here, indeed.”
“Not here, sir?”
“On the word of a gentleman, they left my house an hour ago. Believe me, sir, they did. I will swear to you if you need.”