McBean was down on his knees beside Harry, handling him gently. "Twice through the body, by God," says he. "What does this mean, Boyce? Damme, did you set your fellows on him?"
"I am not an imbecile," Colonel Boyce said fiercely, stared at McBean and laughed his contempt. Then with another manner, he turned to the little crowd which was mustered: "Bring me a shutter, good lads. We've a gentleman here much hurt. And some of you call the watch."
McBean rose with bloody hands. "He has it I believe," he muttered.
"Hark in your ear, Boyce. If this is your work, I'll see you dead, by
God, I will."
"Oh, damn your folly," says Colonel Boyce. "I struck in to help him. I know nothing who the knaves were. Your own tail, maybe."
"Aye, aye," McBean looked at him queerly. "You would say that. Well, maybe this rogue can speak. He groans loud enough." Down he dropped again by his victim to cry out "Ben! You filthy rogue! Ben! Who a plague set you to this business?"
"Oh, you've found a friend, then?" Colonel Boyce sneered.
The man who groaned was Harry's old friend, Ben the fat highwayman of the
North Road. He rolled his eyes and made hoarse, grievous noises.
"Captain! Lord love you, captain, I didn't know you was in it. Oh, gad,
and you ha' been the death o' me,'
"I shall be if you lie," quoth McBean. "You rogue, who set you on
Mr. Boyce?"
"How would I know he was a friend of yours? 'Twas a squire out of Hornsey. Squire Waverton of Tetherdown. Paying handsome to have him downed. Oh, gad, captain, don't be hard. I ha' had no luck since you turned me off."
Now the constables came running up and Colonel Boyce turned to them:
"Secure that fellow. He and some others which have escaped stabbed my
son who lies there. I am Colonel Boyce at the Blue House in St.
Martin's Lane."