"Well, then, don't you lie too much, Mr. Attorney. I will swallow as much as I can; but keep within bounds, or you may chance to find me break out."
"All you have to do is to hold your tongue. I will do all the speaking," replied Sykes. "The prince here may talk as much French as ever he likes, and Master Ned may answer him in the same tongue. I will answer for it that neither old Grimes the sexton nor Martin Sykes the lawyer will be a bit the wiser for it."
"But when is this to be done?" asked Dr. Winthorne. "We have ridden ten miles already to-day."
"Well," said Mr. Sykes, "if we go over by the Barford road, that is but ten miles; and then we can go to Applethorpe, where you intend to give me a bed: that is but nine miles more. You would not mind going thirty miles any day for a fox-hunt."
"I never go fox-hunting," grumbled Dr. Winthorne.
"No, but you used once," said Mr. Sykes. And, bearing down all opposition, being strongly supported, it must be owned, by Edward and the Prince de Soubise, Mr. Sykes carried his point, ordered his own easy-going cob to be brought round, and had a bag fixed to the saddle with such little articles of dress as he wanted.
When the four gentlemen issued forth into the street to proceed upon their way, a certain rosyness of Pierrot's nose, which, together with some dewy drops in his eye, gave his face somewhat the aspect of a morning landscape, induced Edward to believe that he had been engaged in the pious employment of breaking a good resolution. But Pierrot declared manfully that he had only been following his young master's orders with his French companion. "You told me to treat them hospitably, sir," he said; "and how can I treat them hospitably without drinking with them?" Edward gave him a caution to keep himself sober at all events, and on they went some nine miles upon their way at a brisk pace.
"Now," said Sykes, as they approached the old park-wall, which had fallen down in several places, "we won't go nearer the old rascal. We must be perfectly indifferent."
"I recollect this park well," said the Prince de Soubise. "What a splendid place it was before the fire!"
"Hush! hush!" cried Sykes. "That is English." And, riding on, he pulled up his horse at a spot where some cottages were built between the road and the river, just fronting the old iron gates of what was called the grass court, beyond which, some two hundred yards off, appeared the blackened ruins of Langley.