"Pray, sir," says this, very level and quiet, "what may this scene mean?"
Round I whipped, and there, on the threshold of the room, was the tall big man that had fought by me, Sir Philip himself, with his arm in a bandage, a cap on his iron-grey hair, and on his face a stern, commanding expression. Out of the tail of my eye I saw miss shrank back against the wall in a posture of alarm. But York was no whit abashed; he saluted most ceremoniously.
"Good evening, Sir Philip," said he. "Your servant. You are come in time—perish me, in the very nick. Here's a most impudent and amazing case," and he cocks his finger at me. "I have never heard of a more shameless, audacious fellow. Faith, it has made me laugh—so impudent is it!"
"I should like to know what it is, Mr York, so that I maybe might share the jest," says Sir Philip, with some dryness of tone.
"Why, naturally," returned t'other cheerfully. "Having had the good fortune to rescue you and your ward from a pack of villains, cutpurses or worse, what is my surprise to find installed in your house the very chief of the villains, as impudent as you please. Faith, if it were not so grave 'twould tickle me still."
I must admit that the fellow took me back, and for all I was furious I could not but admire his cool bearing and ready wit. Sir Philip stared at me with a black frown, for I could find nothing for the moment to counter this monstrous brazen charge, but at last I broke out, only with an oath, for sure—so amiss was I.
"You damnable rogue!" said I.
But York goes on as calm as ever. "'Twould be a good thing, sir," says he, looking at me with a kind of wondering interest, "if perhaps the watch was called. For he is a man that can use a weapon, as your arm bears witness, and, indeed, my own skin, too," with which he stroked his elbow gently. Sir Philip had come forward and now began in a formidable voice of anger.
"What!" he cries to me, "you are the ruffian—"