“How long have we been here?” said the man on the horse.
“Hours, and not a soul come. My ticker’s been asleep as well,” he muttered, after pulling out his watch. “I believe the ’osses have been having a nap too. I say, I’m getting sick of this.”
“Think they’ll come?”
“Hang me if I know. Guv’nor seems to have been about right.”
“Why, what did he say?”
“You was there and heard him.”
“No: I was in the stable.”
“Said two po’chays was ordered, and he’d only horses for one. That it was certain as it was a ’lopement, that both parties wouldn’t come, and perhaps neither of ’em. If they did, Sir Matthy Bray and Sir Harry Payne had better fight it out, and the gals go home. Hist! Is that them?”
The two men listened attentively as steps were heard, and the listeners in the wood were all on the qui vive.
Directly after, Sir Harry Payne came up.