"Not he, Captain!" exclaimed Frank Curtis. "As far as my uncle is concerned, you may rest quite satisfied that he will never take any notice of the business: and Howard wouldn't act without his instructions."
They had now reached Charing Cross; and Tom Rain, having had quite enough of Mr. Curtis's company, signified his desire that they should separate.
"You won't pass an hour with me over a bottle of wine?" said the young man. "I really should like to have a chat with such a gallant, dashing fellow as you are, Captain; for you're quite after my own heart—barring the——"
"The highway business—eh?" cried Tom, laughing. "Why, you cannot for a minute suppose that it is my regular profession, Mr. Curtis? No such a thing! I merely eased you of the two thousand pounds for the joke of it—just as you played off your tricks on Sir Christopher."
"You talk about easing me, Captain," returned Frank; "but I can assure you that you're the first man that ever got the better of me. Don't fancy for a moment that I—I'm a coward, Captain Sparks——"
"Far from it, my dear sir," exclaimed Tom. "I know you to be as brave as you are straight-forward in your conversation. So good night—and pray take care not to follow me; for I've an awkward habit of turning round and knocking on the head any one that I imagine to be watching me."
With these words the highwayman hurried off up the Strand: and Frank Curtis entered a cigar shop, muttering to himself, "Damn the fellow! I almost think he meant that for insolence. Egad! if he did, the next time I meet him——"
But the valiant young gentleman did not precisely make up his mind what he should do, in the case supposed: and any resentment which he experienced, speedily evaporated with the soothing influence of a cheroot.
Meantime Tom Rain pursued his way along the Strand and Fleet Street, and repaired to the lodgings of Mr. Clarence Villiers in Bridge Street.
That gentleman was at home, and received his visitor in a very friendly manner.