"If you are travelling far, sir, might I suggest that your pistols are ready in their holsters upstairs—"
"I shall not need them!" said I, and stepped out into the street where
Wildfire danced and capered in the grasp of Tom, my groom.
"He do be werry fresh, sir," warned Tom.
"So much the better!" said I. "Hold him until I give the word."
So saying, I swung to saddle, settled feet in stirrups and gripped the reins short in gloved hand.
"An evil night, sir!" said Clegg. "And you won't take your pistols?"
"No! Let go, Tom!"
Back sprang the groom and, snorting joyfully, Wildfire sprang away.