The Wayfarers

by J. C. Snaith

"Not know who Mr. Will Sadler is; well, I call that a good 'un."

And I suppose we might have still remained in ignorance of the identity of our companion to this hour, for apparently Mr. William Sadler was too proud to exhibit his claims to notoriety, and the innkeeper was physically incapable of doing so, had it not been for a whimsical occurrence that presently befell. Amity had been in a great measure restored, and we had nearly finished our supper in peace, having at the same time behaved very creditably by the wine and the victuals, when the landlord suddenly burst in upon us again with a very agitated face. "Oh, Mr. William," cries he to our friend, "whatever shall we do? A sheriff's posse is coming along, and I fear it is you they are seeking hot-foot. They will be here in a minute, and I do not see that you can possibly get out in time."

Words of this nature vastly interested us, you may be sure. We noted that despite the shaken condition of the landlord, Mr. Sadler was perfectly cool.

"Hold 'em as long as you can in talk," says he, "and I will play 'em my old trick. But, my dear fellow, let me beg of you to compose yourself a little. Such a face as you are wearing is enough to betray the cunningest knight in the country, and I must also crave the indulgence of my two friends here. I am sure their true sporting instincts, to say nothing of a professional fellow-feeling, will enable them to give me any small assistance I may be in need of."

While he was speaking in this singular manner, he was occupying himself in one no less remarkable. He casually produced a fresh wig from one of the huge pockets of the riding-coat that hung on the back of a chair near his elbow, and having shook it out, discarded the modest tie wig he was wearing in favour of this much grander one, which he placed on his head with absolute nicety and correctness. Having got as far as this, the landlord apprehended which line he was going to take. Armed with that knowledge, the host accordingly moved to the threshold to greet the sheriff's posse, whilst Mr. Sadler went on with his toilet. This consisted in attaching a grey beard to his chin, a pair of moustachios to his upper lip, and a formidable pair of horn spectacles to his eyes. All of these he produced from the same pocket as the wig. The consequence was a complete and effectual transformation; and had we not been witnesses of the process itself, we could not possibly have identified our companion of the previous moment in this venerable sage.

This strange play which was passing in front of our eyes was so bewildering that at first we could hardly realize what was taking place, or gauge the singular situation in which we found ourselves. But hearing the lusty demanding voices of the persons who even at that moment were at the threshold of the inn, the whole meaning of this odd matter suddenly flashed into my mind. Our elegant companion was a professional breaker of laws, a highwayman most probably, and the sheriff's men were hot on his track. Yet as I looked at the venerable figure before me, the embodiment of stately grace and honoured age, I could not forbear from laughing at him.

"An excellent jest," says he, in a voice that so utterly differed from his natural one as to bestow the last and crowning touch to his altered character. "But it is one that I have played so often in one form or another upon these and similar people that I begin to fear it may grow a little worn-out. However, I must trust to my proverbial luck, and your kind co-operation."

He had no time to say anything more before these unwelcome visitors came into the room with the landlord at their head.

"You can really take my word for it, gentlemen I assure you," he said positively, protesting, "I have seen no such person as you describe. Nor is it at all likely that my house, which has ever been famous for its high respectability, would harbour such a desperate ruffian. You say that His Majesty's mail has been stopped and tried this evening by Will Sadler not five miles off, and that booty exceeding four thousand pounds hath been taken. Lord defend us, gentlemen, whoever heard the like! It is incredible; can this be the eighteenth century?"

By this about half a-dozen dirty, rain-soaked ruffians, comprising the sheriff's posse, had come into the room. And at the head of them, if you please, was that very despotic justice, the squire of the neighbouring parish, who that afternoon had clapt us in the stocks. His appearance certainly complicated matters a good deal, and was like to make them vastly more awkward for us. Yet the fellow at this time was in such an excited state of mind, due to the recent terrible event and his high sense of what he was pleased to call his public duty, that he gave neither Cynthia nor myself the slightest recognition. Indeed, he had most probably forgotten our recent encounter.