The Polander said nothing but watched the Captain in a Troubled Way.
The German got to his feet and laid his hand on Vratz’s Shoulder.
“If my Lord hath gone to Gravesend in a Black Periwig–should not we go after him and slip down the Thames to Margate where we may likely enough get a Ship for Home?”
The Captain looked up like one Undecided, then in a moment was on his Feet, for there had come a Great Knocking on the Door; nor did those without Long stay at Knocking but burst open the door and Entered.
They were Constables and the People of the Inn and in front of them a Man in Squire Thynne’s Liveries carrying a Musquetoon, and on seeing the three he gave a Cry and called out:
“That is the man did shoot my Master!”
And the Polander saw that it was the Blunderbuss he had Dropt in the Haymarket.
“Why do you put this on Us?” asked Captain Vratz in his ill English.
A Constable spoke to him and answered: