Mr. Oxham slapped coat-skirts with his riding-whip and smiled unpleasantly.
“Well an’ hearty enough to attend to you, I reckon,” he answered. “So are ye a-coming along with us quiet or no?”
“But—wheer to, sir?”
“To my Lord Sayle, for sure!”
“On what account, sir?”
“Poaching,” cried Mr. Sturton. “Poaching in the first place, and smuggling in the second, and for being an insolent, shiftless, masterless rogue in the third——”
“And in the fourth place,” smiled Mr. Oxham, seeming bigger and louder than ever, “because my lord wants ye! An’ that’s enough, I reckon!”
“Aye,” nodded Mr. Potter, “an’ where be your warrant, sir?”
“Never you trouble for that, Potter! My lord wants ye. Are ye comin’ quiet or no?”
“But this bean’t no kind o’ justice, sirs——”