“Intrude!” stormed he. “Intrude! Do you call our presence in your beggarly inn an intrusion?”
“No, sir, surely not,” the meek little innkeeper hastened to say, lifting both his hands in a gesture of protest. “I am quite overjoyed to have you, sir; and also your friends,” with a frightened little bow to the others, who stood scowling at him menacingly.
Royce was about to reply to this when he for the first time noted Nat, who still stood near the door listening to the conversation with attention. For a moment the Tory scanned the boy; then he inquired sharply:
“Well, sirrah, what do you want?”
Nat shook the rain from his hunting-shirt; then he removed his cap and tossed the clinging drops with a flirt out upon the floor.
“I don’t think,” replied he, after a pause of some length, during which he smilingly studied the growing fury in the big man’s face, “that is any affair of yours.”
For a moment it seemed as though the Tory would leap upon him and strike him down. But perhaps it was the stalwart, strongly-made figure with its wide shoulders and arching chest that gave him second thought. At any rate, he stood and glared; and Nat, as though he had not noticed his anger, advanced quietly toward him.
“Gentlemen,” spoke he, courteously, to the men about the fireplace, “if you could make room for me, I’d be extremely obliged to you.”
Whether it was the calm, indifferent manner of the lad, or something that they expected of Royce that made them act as they did, it would be difficult to say; at any rate, they drew silently away toward the settees and chairs at the side, leaving the fireplace to Nat, while Royce stood inspecting him, enraged, but mute.
Finally the man found his tongue once more; but instead of bursting out in a blaze of wrath, as all no doubt expected him to do, he spoke quietly enough.