“From their words in the barn, though they spoke little, I drew that the Irish one had overtaken the other on the road.”
“As like as not,” said Tobias Hawkins. Then he asked: “Did you perchance ask their names?”
“I did not, but it may be that my wife did.” He went to a door in the rear and opening it called lowly: “Did you inquire of the two up-stairs what their names were?”
The voice of the woman replied:
“No. But one of them I’ve seen before. He’s the son of Lawyer Cooper who lives at Germantown.”
“Ah, yes,” said Tobias Hawkins, as the landlord closed the door.
“Do you know him, sir?” asked the landlord, curiously.
“Very slightly,” said Hawkins, and the watchers saw the evil smile which he gave his friend. “Very slightly; but I am much interested in him, nevertheless.”
“Shall I go up and see if they will share the room with you?”
“Not yet. Put our horses away.” Hawkins surveyed the man closely; apparently he saw something in the lean face and sharp eyes which pleased him, for he laughed, and continued: “When you return we shall discuss their being disturbed or no.”