Before Crispin could reply, the door leading to the interior of the inn was flung open, and Mrs. Quinn, breathless with exertion and excitement, came scurrying across the room. In the doorway stood the host in hesitancy and fear. Bending to Crispin's ear, Mrs. Quinn delivered her message in a whisper that was heard by most of those who were about.
“Gone!” cried Crispin in consternation.
The woman pointed to her husband, and Crispin, understanding from this that she referred him to the host, called to him.
“What know you, landlord?” he shouted. “Come hither, and tell me whither is she gone!”
“I know not,” replied the quaking host, adding the particulars of Cynthia's departure, and the information that the lady seemed in great anger.
“Saddle me a horse,” cried Crispin, leaping to his feet, and pitching Mr. Foster's trinket upon the table as though it were a thing of no value. “Towards Denham you say they rode? Quick, man!” And as the host departed he swept the gold and the ring he had won into his pockets preparing to depart.
“Hoity toity!” cried Mr. Foster. “What sudden haste is this?”
“I am sorry, sir, that Fortune has been unkind to you, but I must go. Circumstances have arisen which—”
“D—n your circumstances!” roared Foster, get ting on his feet. “You'll not leave me thus!”
“With your permission, sir, I will.”