"And what's Dykes doing down here?" asked the postboy, when the waiter had disappeared to execute the commission he had received.
"He's been investigating a 'cendiary fire," replied an ostler; for the landlord, disdaining to hold any farther converse with a postillion, had stepped up to the window to inquire whether the ladies chose to alight.
Having received a negative answer, accompanied with an intimation that the sooner the carriage was allowed to proceed the more agreeable it would be to Lady Hatfield and Miss Mordaunt, the landlord returned towards the spot where the postillions, the hangers-on of the hotel, and other loungers were grouped together.
Mr. Dykes almost immediately afterwards made his appearance in the form of a tall, stout, heavy, but powerfully built man, shabby-genteel in his attire, and carrying a strong ash-stick in his hand.
The particulars of the highway robbery were described to him in a very few moments.
"How was the fellow dressed?" asked the officer.
"A black coat," said the first postboy.
"No—it wasn't," cried the second.
"Then what was it?" demanded Mr. Dykes.
"I don't know—but I'm sure it wasn't a black 'un," was the highly satisfactory answer.