We walked slowly towards Petergate, where our steeds had been stabled. As we turned into that street an officer came swiftly round the corner, so that we ran violently against each other. In a moment I recognized him; he was none other than Ralph Slingsby, who brought the tidings of the Restoration to us at the "Flying Bull" at Rake on the same evening that my father was murdered.
"Ah, Captain Slingsby!" I exclaimed.
He eyed me with astonishment.
"I know you not, young sir, and as for the captain, that is but a bygone handle to my name, for I am Colonel Ralph Slingsby at your service."
Briefly I recalled the scene in the "Flying Bull".
"Then you are Sir Owen Wentworth's son?" he asked.
I assented, and told him briefly of what had happened.
"Back with me to the sheriff's house," he said. "It would ill repay the friendship I owed your father if I did not render this slight service to his son. Young sir, I see now that you are the very image of your father when first I knew him."
With Slingsby to aid us, the interview with the sheriff was of short duration, and, armed with a warrant, I left his presence in a far better mood than I was in an hour before.
Shaking the colonel warmly by the hand, I bade him farewell, promising to call upon him directly my affairs were settled, and, mounting our horses, Drake and I sped joyfully back towards Holwick, which we reached within four hours of our departure.