"But I have a friend here, too," I answered, "and I want to see her. I will see her, too. I think you mistake me for some of those people who have been drinking at your bar; but there you are in error. My name is Sir Richard Conway, and----"
"Sir Richard this, or Sir Richard that!" cried the woman, "is no matter to me. You can't go up, so that's enough, and shouldn't if you were Lord Dunmore."
"I want to speak with Miss Davenport," I replied; "to hear of her safety, and to inquire if I can serve her in any way further."
"Miss Davenport!" cried the hostess, in a tone somewhat mollified. "Why, I didn't know that Bessy Davenport was here--have you seen her, Imoinda? Why, I thought she was killed in Stringer's house."
"That she certainly was not," I answered, hating the great, fat, coarse woman from the bottom of my heart; "she and I escaped from Mr. Stringer's house together--I am her near relation, you know."
"Oh, ay," cried the woman, still screaming at the top of her voice, in order to be heard above the din; "you are her English cousin who shot Bob Thornton. But you can't go up for all that." I felt the greatest possible inclination to take her by the back of the neck, and pitch her down amongst the mob below. But refraining with an ill grace, I said--
"I have every reason to believe that Miss Davenport was escorted here some short time ago by Colonel Halliday; but I am not sure of it, and I am determined to ascertain whether she is safe or not. So now, good woman, you shall either satisfy me on that point, or I will bring the sheriff to make you."
"Good woman!" cried the hostess, with her face all in a blaze. "You saucy coon! Why do you call me 'good woman?' My husband, the colonel, shall 'good woman' you. Do you think that you English have got the dominion in the land still? No, no! I think we taught you better, when we whipped you all through the country. 'Good woman,' indeed!"
"Why, surely, you would not have me call you bad woman, would you?" I retorted, a good deal irritated. "But I see, I must bring some one who will be able to persuade you better than I can." And descending the two or three stairs which I had mounted, I once more forced my way through the crowd in search of the sheriff. That gentleman, however, was no longer to be seen in any of the various groups immediately in front of the house. I just caught a glance of Billy Byles as I passed out of the inn; but he was speaking to some lady up in the balcony above, and I passed on without interrupting him. From one little knot of people to another I went; and perhaps at any other moment, with a disembarrassed mind, the strange medley of men of wealth and men of none; of men of education and men without; of men of refined habits and men of the coarsest manners; and the perfect familiarity which existed between them all--would have given occasion for much speculation in my mind as an Englishman. But I was too much occupied with the one predominant idea to think of anything else, and I exhausted nearly half an hour in searching for the sheriff in vain. I was just turning back to the inn, when some one called me.
"Sir Richard, Sir Richard," said a voice. And, looking round, I perceived Mr. Byles coming up from the side of the marketplace I had just left.