"You should give me my weapons before you bid me depart," said the captain, in as light a tone as he could assume.
"When you are gone, I will throw them after you."
Ravenshaw dashed forward with a growl; but stopped short in time, with the point of his own sword at his breast. He had an impulse to grasp the blade; but he knew, if he were quick enough for that, there was yet the dagger to be reckoned with, besides the two men, who drew their knives at that moment. Jerningham seemed to brace himself for a spring; he held the captain's sword and dagger as in sockets of iron; a dark gleam shone in his eyes. Ravenshaw knew the look; time and again he had worn it himself; he knew also when, as player in a game, he was within a move of being checkmated.
"Well," quoth he, with a grin of resignation, "you hold all the good cards. I will carry your letter." He suddenly bethought him of a friend or two in Rochester, which he would pass through early in the morning if he made the journey, by whom he might send Cutting Tom's money to the parson. Contemplating the life of ease he had promised himself in his new service, he was not sorry a good pretext had occurred for withdrawing his refusal.
"You will set out immediately?" asked Jerningham.
"The sooner the better, now."
Jerningham sent the old man out with a lantern to saddle the captain's horse and bring it to the door. He then handed the letter to the captain, and gave particular instructions, such as would be necessary in a genuine errand. Jeremy reappeared, at the front door, and announced that the horse was ready. Jerningham surrendered the captain's rapier and dagger with grace, and gave him money for the journey. Ravenshaw then examined the lantern which Jeremy brought him, waved a farewell to Jerningham and Meg, and strode to the door.
Jerningham breathed softly, lest even a sigh of satisfaction might betray his sense of triumph. "She is mine!" sang his heart.
The door, left slightly ajar by the old man, opened wide as if by a will of its own, just as the captain was about to grasp it. A white-bearded, ruddy-faced man, dressed in rags and upheld by one leg and a crutch, stood grinning at the threshold.