"We have had a weary ride of it, Mr. Bourgoign…. I am on the road to Derby," went on Robin, talking loudly enough now to be overheard, as he hoped, by any listeners. "And my horse is spent…. I will tell you my business," he added in a lower tone, "as soon as you bid me."
Fifty yards up the road the old man pressed his arm again.
"You can tell me now, sir," he said. "But we will walk, if you please, while you do so."
* * * * *
"First," said Robin, after a moment's consideration as to his best beginning, "I will tell you the name I go by. It is Mr. Alban. I am a newly-made priest, as I told you just now; I came from Rheims scarcely a fortnight ago. I am from Derbyshire; and I will tell you my proper name at the end, if you wish it."
"Repeat the blessing of the deacon by the priest at mass," murmured Mr. Bourgoign to the amazement of the other, without the change of an inflection in his voice or a movement of his hand.
"Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis—" began the priest.
"That is enough, sir, for the present. Well?"
"Next," said Robin, hardly yet recovered from the extraordinary promptness of the challenge—"Next, I was speaking with Mr. Babington a fortnight ago."
"In what place?"