"Are they enough?" Eubank cried anxiously.
"Plenty," the soldier answered with some scorn. "He made no fight."
"I'll lay you caught him under her window?" Eubank returned, licking his lips.
The man nodded; then stood twiddling his cap, and looking ashamed of himself. For Kate Hunt had just appeared at the open staircase door, and thence, raised a step above the floor, with a hand on each post, was taking in the scene.
Eubank—who did not see her—chuckled. "I thought so," he said, with an evil grin; and between his bald head and his vile triumph he looked as ugly as sin itself. "I knew he would be there. She did not deceive me, with her door on the latch!"
Pistol, or no pistol, Hunt nearly fell upon him. The owler only refrained because he became aware of his daughter's presence, and to his great bewilderment read in her face not horror or misery, but a strange passionate relief. He turned from her—they were bringing in the prisoner. It was no surprise to him when Eubank, with a howl of consternation, stepped back almost into the fire. "You fools!" the apothecary cried, all his malignity appearing in his face, "that is not the man! That is not——"
"Mr. Fayle?" said the prisoner coolly. "No, it is not. And yet, Mr. Eubank, I think you know me. Or, you should know me. You have seen me often enough."
The apothecary stared, started, drew a deep breath of relief, and was himself again. "Yes, I know you—Mr. Birkenhead," he said. "I have lost Fayle, but I have won a thousand guineas. Lads!" he continued, raising his voice almost to a scream, "we have shot at the pigeon and killed the crow! We have killed the crow! It is Birkenhead, the Post—the Jacobite Post! And there is a thousand guineas on his head!"
Hunt gathered himself together. "Mr. Birkenhead," he said, "we are two to four, but say the word, and——"
"I'll say a word for you presently," the Jacobite answered with a quick look of acknowledgment, "where we are going. But first, to show Mr. Eubank that he is more lucky than he thinks, and has caught his pigeon as well as his crow. Fayle," he continued, raising his voice, "come in!"