“Who says so—lies!” cried Mr. Sturton fiercely. “And, Oxham, if ye hope to find Potter you’d best search now ’stead o’ wasting any more time.”
“Aye, search be the word!” nodded Mr. Bunkle. “I can show ye arl manner o’ likely places to search in——”
“I’ll find the curst rogue if we ha’ to pull the danged place about your ears——”
“Why, very good!” answered Mr. Bunkle, rubbing his hands. “Only arl breakages must be paid for——”
“Paid for?” roared Mr. Oxham, louder than ever. “Gimme any more o’ your imperence an’ I’ll pay ye wi’ my whip!”
“I shouldn’t!” answered Mr. Bunkle. “No, I shouldn’t if I was you, Oxham.”
For answer Mr. Oxham raised his whip, only to have it twitched out of his grasp from behind, and, wheeling about, came face to face with the imperturbable Robert.
“You ... you ...” he panted. “Gimme that whip!”
“With j’y!” answered the ex-Corporal, stepping back for space to strike.
“I suggest the fire, Robert!” murmured Sir John from where he lolled upon the settle; and next moment Mr. Oxham’s whip was among the flames, and before its stupefied owner could find words, Sir John continued: