"'Not a penny, and have two hundred miles to travel.'
"'Hast thou no friends among the English here?'
"'Have I not said that I am poor?'
"'Right! I have learned in my time that the poor have no friends.'
"'Save God and their own hands.'
"'Right again, say I; though a highwayman, I love thee lad, for we have suffered in common from this accursed usurper, who sits in the throne of of our king. Here are thirty guineas; 'tis the half of all I have in the world, but to-morrow night may bring me better luck; take them with welcome, and spend them without scruple; but two hours ago, they were in the purse of that rascally whig, Marmaduke Langstone, of Langstone Hall. Keep to the right, and an hour's brisk walking will bring you to a hedge alehouse. Whisper my name to the wench at the bar (kiss her for me), and she will put thee on the right road for Colchester; the girl is true as steel to the good old cause.'
"'Whom shall I thank—whom remember?'
"'They call me "Highflying Tom" now, eastward of Temple Bar,' said he in a tone of bitterness; 'but when King James sat in his own chair, I was Thomas Butler, Esquire, of a long pedigree and an empty purse—devil else—but a gentleman every inch, sir; one that has shot his man, played at Cavagnole with King Charles, and Ombre with the Queen; drank many a bout with Rochester, ruffled it with Buckingham, and handed the fair Castlemaine and fairer Cleveland through a crowded cotillon. But it's all over now; and, d—n me! I am plain Bully Butler the highwayman.—So, sir, your servant;' and dashing spurs into his horse, he galloped away over the heath."
"Thomas Butler, of the princely house of Ormond—and 'twas he!" said Finland; "a braver spark old Ireland never sent forth to glory or disgrace. His father was a stout old Royalist, and shed his blood for King James on the banks of the Boyne. And so he hath taken to the road, the madcap! That is riding at the gallows full tilt with a vengeance!"
"But for that rencontre, I must have expired. The meeting gave me renewed energy; and (to be brief) I reached—not Colchester, but the sea-port of Saltfleet, where, in the disguise of a poor Scottish mariner, I embarked on board a smuggling craft, which landed me at Boulogne; and so—I am here."