He laid hold of my arm, and looked so menacing that I was fairly taken aback.
“And if I do not,” said I, as I began suddenly to see what it all led to.
“Then in the Queen’s name I shall know what to do with you,” said he, beckoning to his three men, who rose and approached me.
I was fairly in a corner now, for a man who held the Queen’s warrant was not one lightly to be resisted. Yet what could I tell him?
“Let me hear your questions,” said I, as civilly as I could, and edging a little towards the door, “perhaps I can answer them.”
“That’s a wise lad,” said he, mollified, “I know you are but a tool—men, stand back there—I blame you not for doing your duty, but you must tell me here, the name of the man, your master, who sent you this errand, and the name of him to whom you bore it.”
“I can tell you neither,” said I.
He turned to his men, but before they could rise, I had rushed to the door and was outside. A key stood in the outside of the lock, which mine host used to turn and take with him when business called him to leave his inn empty. I had just time to turn this and vault on one of the three horses, when the window was flung open and the leader of the band sprang on to the casement.
But he was too late; for before he could level his musket at me, I was twenty yards away at a gallop, leading by the bridle the two spare horses which had stood at the door beside the one I rode.
The shot, badly aimed, whistled past my ear, and served to urge on the horses to a wilder pace, so that, before even the party was outside, hallooing after me, I was a furlong off, plunging deep into the wood.