He reckoned without his hosts. When the gig set him down at the Sun Inn, and he walked into this hostelry, he was met by popping eyes and gaping mouths, and informed by the landlord that no one had expected to see him again. The Duke raised his brows at this, for he did not relish the landlord’s tone, and said: “How is this? Since I have not paid my shot you must have been sure of my return.”
It was plain that the landlord had had no such certainty. He said feebly: “I’m downright glad to see your honour back, but the way things have been ever since you went off, sir, I wouldn’t be surprised at nothing, and that’s the truth!”
The Duke was conscious of a sinking at the pit of his stomach. “Has anything gone amiss?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” said the landlord sarcastically, his wrongs rising forcibly to his mind. “Oh, no, sir! I’ve only had the constables here, and my good name blown upon, for to have the constables nosing round an inn is enough to ruin it, and this posting-house which has given beds to the gentry and the nobility too, and never a breath of scandal the years I’ve owned it!”
The Duke now perceived that he had not yet come to the end of his adventures. He sighed, and said: “Well I suppose it is Master Tom! What mischief has he been engaged upon while I was away?”
The landlord’s bosom swelled. “If it’s your notion of mischief, sir, to be took up for a dangerous rogue, it ain’t mine! Robbery on the King’s highroad, that’s what the charge is! Firing at honest citizens—old Mr. Stalybridge, too, as is highly respected in the town! Hell be transported, if he ain’t hanged, and a good thing too, that’s what I say!”
The Duke was a good deal taken aback by this disclosure, but after a stunned moment he said: “Nonsense! He has no gun, and cannot possibly—”
“Begging your pardon, sir, he had a fine pistol, and it was God’s mercy he didn’t kill Mr. Stalybridge’s coachman with it, for the shot went so close to him it fair scorched his ear!”
“Good God!” ejaculated the Duke, suddenly bethinking him of his duelling-pistols.
“Ah, and well you may say so!” nodded the landlord. “And a great piece of black cloth hanging down over his face, with a couple of holes in it like a mask, enough to give anyone a turn! Locked up in prison he is now, the young varmint!”