“Pay up then, my lord, for I tell you that you have been deceived. Once more: the lady is May Burnett, her sister.”
“I’m assured that it is Claire Denville, and if it is, Barclay, I’ll save her, damme, I will, if I shoot the man.”
“But, my lord—”
“Don’t talk to me, sir. I tell you if I saw her going to the church with a fellow like young Linnell I’d give her a handsome present; but I can’t bear for such a girl as that to be going wrong.”
“Unless it was with you, my lord,” said Barclay abruptly.
“You confounded rascal! How dare you!” snarled Lord Carboro’. “Do you think I have no good feeling in me? There, you wouldn’t believe in my disinterestedness, any more than I would in yours. Don’t talk. What shall we do? Pay the postboys and send them off?”
“No, my lord: stand aside, and make sure that we have made no mistake.”
“If you have made no mistake,” said his lordship quickly; and he and his companion had hardly drawn aside into the convenient wood to swell the circle gathering round the intending evaders, when Richard Linnell made a step from his concealment and was arrested by Mellersh, as Burnett whispered:
“What are they here for?”
Just then one of the postboys yawned and stretched himself, making noise sufficient to awaken his fellow, who rose from the bank and flicked his whip.