“Very good, sir!” answered Robert the imperturbable.
Reaching Dering Village at last, an unpleasant surprise awaited them; for no sooner had Sir John dismounted before the ‘Dering Arms’ than he was confronted by four stalwart men, formidable fellows armed with sticks and clad in a neat livery who, stepping out of the inn, stood grouped in the doorway, barring his entrance.
“Well, my lads,” inquired Sir John, chin uplifted, “what is it?”
“Ask ’im,” answered one insolently, a surly, blue-jowled fellow, with a back-handed gesture towards the woeful landlord who stood shrinking in the background.
“Be good enough to explain, Mr. Nixon.”
“Why, ye see, sirs,” mumbled the landlord, “these be Mus’ Sturton’s men, an’ this be Dering, an’ Mus’ Sturton’s word is as you must go.”
“You mean that we are to be turned out?”
“Mus’ Sturton says as you must go, sirs,” repeated the landlord miserably.
“Pray, what livery do these men wear?”
“Why, sir, it be the Dering livery, though they be straangers ’ereabouts——”