"Do you think your master and this highwayman are the same person?" asked Barbara, and with more eagerness than she had asked her other questions.
"I have heard other people wonder whether they were, but I do not believe it; still, if Mr. Crosby is 'Galloping Hermit,' he is a man to be proud of. I would—"
"Yes, yes, I know," said Barbara; "but you can hardly expect me to take much interest in a highwayman."
"No, madam, of course not. I was not thinking of the highwayman, but of my master. It is on his account that I have journeyed to see you."
"It was good and honest of you to come," said Barbara. "I must think what I can do. Are you remaining in London?"
"I have a cousin in the city who is married to a mercer's assistant; I shall remain with her for a day or two," the girl answered.
"Come to-morrow about noon; I shall have decided something then."
"And if not you could help me to find this fiddler, perhaps?" said the girl.
When she had gone Martin came from behind the screen, and Barbara looked at him, her eyes full of questions.
"Yes, mistress, I fear her story is true. What she says of Mr. Crosby's doings is correct, also it is a fact that Galloping Hermit has been in Dorsetshire."