"Can you ask?" he said reproachfully. "You may be sure I have only waited to shake off the dust of travel, before hastening to throw myself at your feet."
"And how did you leave Bleakmoor?" she went on, "and have you seen our host and his friends since we left them?"
"Bleakmoor, deprived of the sunshine," said Sir Geoffrey, including the two girls in a low bow, "has by now been given over to the bats and owls. Brooke hath betaken himself to Malvern, and his friends are scattered to their own homes. The hunting is better since the thaw, but I have lost all taste for the field when Prue no longer leads the hunt."
"We scarcely expected that you would follow us so soon," remarked Peggie.
"Was I in too great haste?" he demanded. "Had I been warned of your sudden journey, I might, perhaps, have offended by offering my escort."
"You would have had a chance of playing the knight-errant," said Prue, "and coming to the rescue of two forlorn damsels set upon by footpads and forced to resort to all kinds of feminine wiles to protect their jewels."
The baronet rapped out an oath. "The fellows attacked you and I was not there to make mincemeat of them!" he exclaimed. "By Jove, these rascals become more and more audacious every day. A band of them attacked Will Battersea and myself on the North Road, where we had the good fortune to capture the ringleader and hand him over to the officers of justice."
"Bravo!" cried Margaret, clapping her hands. "Tell us all about it, Sir Geoffrey."
"Oh! 'twas the usual thing," he began. "We were on a lonely road, not far from Willesden—Will and I riding in front, with our fellows close behind—when several masked horsemen appeared from behind a clump of bushes, and covering us with their firearms, demanded our money or our lives—"
("Stand and deliver—" murmured Peggie, with a covert glance at her cousin.)—"We proceeded to argue the matter," Sir Geoffrey continued, "and either by accident or to intimidate us, one of the rascals let fly and hit my man Brown in the shoulder. Instantly, there was a mêlée, in the midst of which approaching shouts were heard and the highwaymen, at the word of command, dashed off, pursued by Will Battersea and myself. A parting shot, fired at random, brought down the horse of one of the highwaymen, who threw his rider into a ditch and rolled over him. There we found him with a broken collarbone, and handed him over to the mounted constabulary, who had arrived so opportunely."