Sir Robert Croyland was not naturally a brilliant man. Though hasty in temper in his early days, he had always been somewhat obtuse in intellect; but this was a case of emergency; and there is no greater sharpener of the wits than necessity. In an instant, he had formed his plan to gain time, which was his great object at that moment; and, taking out his watch, he laid it on the table, exclaiming aloud, "Gentlemen! gentlemen! a little regularity, if you please. My time is precious. I have an important engagement this afternoon, and I----"
But his whole scheme had nearly been frustrated by the impetuosity of young Radford himself, who at once pushed through officers and soldiers, saying, "And so have I, Sir Robert, a very important engagement this afternoon. I claim to be heard as speedily as possible."
Sir Robert, however, was determined to carry his point, and to avoid having aught to do with the case of his young friend, even at the risk of giving him offence and annoyance. "Stand back, sir!" he said. "In this court, there is no friendship or favour. You will have attention in turn, but not before. Mr. Mowle, bring forward the prisoners one after the other, as near as possible, in the order of--the order of--of their capture," he added, at length, after hesitating for a moment to consider whether it was or was not probable that young Radford had been amongst those last taken; "and let all the others be removed, under guard, into the next room."
"Wont that make it a long affair, Sir Robert?" asked Mr. Runnington, a neighbouring squire.
"Oh dear, no!" replied the chairman; "by regularity we shall save time. Do as you are directed, Mowle!"
Young Radford showed a strong disposition to resist, or, at least, to protest against this arrangement; but the officer to whom the baronet had spoken, treated the prisoner with very little reverence; and he, with the rest of the gang, was removed from the room, with the exception of three, one of whom, with a smart cockade in his hat, such as was worn at that time by military men in undress, swaggered up to the table with a bold air, as if he were about to address the magistrates.
"Ah, major, is that you?" asked a gentleman on Sir Robert's right, known in the country by the name of Squire Jollyboat, though his family being originally French, his real appellation was Jollivet.
"Oh yes, squire," answered the prisoner, in a gay, indifferent tone, "here I am. It is long since I have had the pleasure of seeing your worship. I think you were not on the bench the last time I was committed, or I should have fared better."
"I don't know that, major," replied the gentleman; "on the former occasion I gave you a month, I think."
"Ay, but the blackguards that time gave me two," rejoined the major.