Captain Heron, in charge of the baffled Mr Hawkins, said in a voice that shook with suppressed mirth: “For God’s sake come away! He’ll burst a blood-vessel at this rate.”
“Wait a bit,” said Sir Roland. He swept off his abominable beaver, a,nd bowed over his horse’s withers. “Haven’t the honour of knowing your name, sir, but you’ve a very pretty pair of wheelers there. Looking for just such a pair.”
The old gentleman gave a scream of rage. “Insolence! Steal my horses, would you? Postilion! I command you, drive on!”
“No, no! Assure you nothing of the sort!” protested Sir Roland.
Captain Heron bore down upon him, and seizing his bridle, dragged him away. “Come away,” he said, “you’ll ruin us all, you young madman!”
Sir Roland allowed himself to be led off. “A pity,” he said, shaking his head. “Great pity. Never saw such a queer-tempered fellow.”
The Viscount, who was speaking a few pithy words to Mr Hawkins, turned his head. “How the devil should he know you wanted to buy his horses? Besides, we haven’t time to buy horses. We’d better get back to our ambush. Mare stood the firing pretty well, didn’t you, sweetheart?”
Captain Heron watched the chaise rolling away up the road. “He’ll lay information in Hounslow, Pelham, you mark my words.”
“Let him,” said the Viscount. “He won’t get the Watch out against us. Why, we didn’t take a thing!”
“Not a thing,” muttered Mr Hawkins sulkily. “And him with his strong-box under the seat! Dang me if ever I works with flash culls again!”