Sir Philip, without more ado, turned to him.
"Mr York," said he, civilly, "I beg your pardon for my coldness, which, indeed, had nothing of suspicion. But you must remember that we have never quite agreed. I hope that will mend. I remain greatly in your debt, and I trust you will be good enough to add to my obligations by keeping this man secure until my return. I will have the watch fetched at once."
"Nothing will give me greater satisfaction, sir," says the rogue, cheerfully, and off goes Sir Philip with his black, portentous face, leaving us three there together again. As for me, I had made up my mind and was feeling my way to some action; but says York, looking on me pleasantly,—
"Egad, you're in a ticklish case. Stap me, you've run your head into a noose. Now, why the devil did you yield that way? I had looked for a good round fight, as good, egad, as we had this evening. And I had begun to have my fears, too—stap me, I did."
But I paid him no heed then, for I will confess that I was all eyes for Miss Lydia, whose face was very piteous. She was trembling violently and looked out of tragic eyes, and then it came upon me like a flash that she was no party to the lie herself, but had spoken in fear of that bully. Indeed, it may be that she took a distaste of him, as it were, from that scene which began to show from that minute. How else can be explained what ensued?
"You had better go, sir," said she at last, in a whisper.
"Ay, that's true," says York, nodding. "I had not thought of that. You had better go. The watch will be fetched."
He looked so comfortable and so friendly, rather than what he was at heart, that my gorge rose of a sudden.
"Perish me if I will go," says I. "If I must hang I must hang."