"Let him stay, let him stay," said Sir John Slingsby, "he'll have an opportunity there of improving his mind. What, what do you say?" he continued, as the man whispered something over his shoulder, "we've neither secrets of state nor high treason here,--speak out."
"Please you, Sir John, two of Mr. Wittingham's men have brought up Stephen Gimlet, whom they call Wolf, with irons upon him. I have kept him in the hall."
"Hang it!" cried Ned Hayward, "my little boy's father. I hope he has not been doing any serious mischief!"
"I don't think it, I don't think it," said Dr. Miles, eagerly, "the man has a heart and a conscience, a little warped, it is true; but still sound--sound, I think--I will go and speak to him."
"Hang him, he steals my pheasants!" exclaimed Sir John Slingsby.
"Then why don't you put him to keep them, colonel?" asked Ned Hayward. "He would make a capital keeper, I am sure. Set a thief to catch a thief, Sir John."
"Not a bad idea, Ned," answered the baronet. "Stay, stay, doctor, he's not condemned yet, and so does not want the parson. We had better talk to old Wittingham first. We'll have him in and fuddle him. Give my compliments to Mr. Wittingham, Matthews, and beg him to walk in. You need not go, Harriet. He's quite a lady's man."
But Mrs. Clifford rose, not at all anxious to witness the process of fuddling a magistrate, and withdrew with her daughter and her niece.