"By whose charge?" said Lee, passing his hand across his eyes, like a man striving to see the light.
"You want to be knowing more than's good for you," sneeringly replied the sergeant; "'tis all roight. Him as asks no questions, woan't be telled no lies. I warrant ya 't be no use kickin'. Eh—yow! yow! stand still, you brute," yelled the brave Hector, as Lawrence's horse evinced a decided disposition to make a trial of his heels, and sent the by-standers to a safer distance. Lee, however, quieted the animal, and then with a composure of manner that worked everybody up to an unendurable pitch of exasperation, he again demanded his accuser's name.
"Colonel Richard Rumsey," answered the spokesman, thinking it wiser perhaps to comply.
"Very good," said Lawrence dismounting, and consigning his horse to one of his own stablemen who stood near.
"Come! Quick march, cap'n," said the sergeant, regaining all his wonted valour, as the sound of the departing horse's hoofs grew fainter and fainter.
"Where to?" said Lawrence, facing about.
"To the King's Arms!"
"The King's Arms, to begin with, and then—" the man chuckled.
"That will do," calmly said Lee. "What do you mean by this?" he added, a purple red flush of wounded pride suffusing all his face, as a stout cord was flung over his shoulders from behind, and a dozen hands secured it.
"Only a little compliment we pay to plotters and suchlike folk," laughed the sergeant.