Impulsively Scarlett rose up.
“I will save you the trouble,” said he. “The matter, in a measure, is my own,” apologetically to Ezra, “so I trust you will pardon me.” He lifted his voice and called: “Landlord!”
There came a grumbling, unintelligible answer from the kitchen; but the host did not present himself.
“I took him to be a surly, sour-mouthed villain from the first,” commented Scarlett. “And as he will not come to me, I will go to him. And I’ll warrant you he’ll tell what I want to know, or I’ll have him dance you a measure that he’ll not like.”
So with a hitch at his sword belt and a twirl at his moustache, the speaker clanked into the kitchen, from which his voice came a moment later with commanding insistence.
And no sooner had he vanished than Pennington bent eagerly toward Ezra.
“You know me, of course?” said he.
As Ezra did not reply, the man continued in a low, rapid tone:
“You saw me frequently at your grandfather’s house at Boston.”
A thrill ran through Ezra. He now understood that first surprised look. The man mistook him for his twin brother, George. But the boy shook his head as though in doubt.