"The bolts, if used, are more likely to keep them out than the distance," said Rosmore; and, although the landlord still smiled, he was quite conscious of the doubt expressed concerning the use of the bolts. Rosmore paused for him to speak, but when he remained silent went on. "We are searching for a rebel now, one Gilbert Crosby. Do you reckon him amongst your good company?"
"I might if I had ever heard of him," the landlord answered.
"Who is in the house at this moment?" Rosmore asked.
"A wench in the kitchen, and myself. My daughter is in the village at the merry-making, and the only other person about the place to-night is the boy who is looking after your horses."
"I am sorry to inconvenience you, landlord, but I must make a search. If you're honest you will not mind the inconvenience."
"Mind!" the landlord exclaimed. "I like to see a man do his duty, whatever that duty may be, and whatever the man's station may be."
"Spoken honestly," said Rosmore. "Watson, you will stay here. Savers, come with me, and you come, too, landlord."
The search was a thorough one, and although Rosmore keenly watched the landlord he could discover no sign of fear either in his face or attitude. Watson had nothing to report when they returned to the tap-room.
"Tell me, landlord, what persons of quality have you in the near neighbourhood?"
Saunders mentioned several names, amongst them Sir Peter Faulkner.