"So late!" said Barnabas, grim-lipped and frowning as he settled his feet in the stirrups. "Now—give him his head there—stay! Martin, have you a brace of pistols?"
"Pistols! Why yes, sir, but—"
"Lend them to me."
Forthwith the pistols were brought, somewhat clumsy weapons, but serviceable none the less.
"They're loaded, sir!" said Martin as he handed them up.
"Good!" nodded Barnabas, and slipping one into either pocket, gathered up his reins.
"You'll not be back tonight, sir?"
"Not tonight, Martin."
"Good night, sir."
"Good night, Martin."