But Bullcott seemed struck by Sir Hilary's asserted recognition of the dress. "Oh, well," said he, "maybe I'm wrong. Sir Hilary doubtless knows what inn his sister lodged at last night. Egad, if it turns out to be her, mayhap some folk won't be so prudish after this!" The Squire grinned to think the lady who had repulsed him, and whom he had failed to carry off, might be compromised after all.
"What's that? What d'ye say?" cried Sir Hilary. "So my sister has been prudish to you, you old goat! Well she might! I know your ways; everybody does! Well, if it comes to that, I don't say it is my sister in that room! I don't say the landlord wasn't right, and that my sister didn't leave this inn yesterday. But I do say this, and to you, sir." Sir Hilary spoke now to Dick. "You see how my sister's good name is at stake. If the lady in that room isn't she, then my sister is an honest girl, and doesn't deserve the least doubt against her reputation. Whoever the lady is, 'tis evident as much can't be said for her. Therefore, to exonerate an innocent lady, 'tis your duty the guilty one shall be made to show herself, before all in this room. That's only fair, sir! Better than two ladies suffer reproach, let the one that merits it appear and clear the other! Then we shall know whether 'tis my right or Bullcott's to fight you. For there is one lady in that room, I'll swear!" Sir Hilary had become quite sober and dignified.
That Sir Hilary's sister should suffer for a moment in her reputation was, of course, a thought intolerable to Dick. Yet he must save Amabel at any cost. The actual truth, if he told it, would be taken as a lame excuse for her presence in the bedchamber. By the pig-headed Squire, the mere fact that his wife had fled to Dick's room to avoid exposure would be regarded as evidence of criminality. Yet how could such a plea as Sir Hilary's be refused?
"Come, sir!" said the baronet.
At that moment a new face appeared in the doorway, that of a young lady of graceful figure, piquant visage, and very fine gray eyes. These eyes rested on Sir Hilary alone, thus missing Squire Bullcott, who, at first sight of the lady, flopped down on all fours behind the breakfast-table, a movement unnoticed while the general attention was on the newcomer.
"Why, Brother, so you are really here? Wilson saw you ride past the inn at Thatcham this morning, and we supposed you were coming to the Pelican to meet me; so I drove back after you."
"Give me a buss, Sis!" cried Sir Hilary, who had already grasped both her hands and shown every sign of joy. "'Fore gad, you came in good time! So 'tisn't you in the next room! A thousand pardons, Mr. Wetheral! But what were you doing at Thatcham, Sis?"
"Why," replied Miss Englefield, "'tis a long story. At this inn, yesterday afternoon, a maid brought me a letter scrawled by Jenny Mullen, who used to serve at the Hall. It seems she is now attached to a gang of rogues that were hired to make trouble for me at this inn last night. So she warned me in secret to leave quietly. She begged me to say nothing to the landlord or the watch, lest her companions might be caught. So I went on and lay at Thatcham, and that is how Wilson happened to see you galloping hither this morning. Poor Jenny promised to keep the rascals drinking in the tap-room, so they should not learn of my departure, and she must have kept her promise."
"Thank the Lord, she must have!" said Sir Hilary. "But how the devil did they know you were going to lodge here last night?"
"Why, my girl, Sukey, confessed this morning that in Bath she made the acquaintance of a so-called captain, to whom she told the plan we had arranged for our journey. It seems from Jenny's letter that the rogues were to carry me off to a country-seat near Whitchurch in Hampshire; their employer—odious beast—was to lie last night at Hungerford, and follow to-day to Whitchurch."