I made a movement towards the door; but my host waved his hand as if to detain me—
“Stop,” said lie; “it is nearly midnight, and the first place where you could obtain a lodging is ten miles distant.”
“I have walked twenty before now,” I replied, “to shoot a dozen snipes.”
“The road is bad and difficult to find,” rejoined Mr. Hartley.
“I can rouse a peasant on the way side, and he will guide me.”
“It is dangerous, besides,” added he; “a murder was committed there but lately.”
“No matter,” I returned; “I have little indeed to lose.”
“You put your trust in honest Juvenal,” said he, with a faint smile. “‘Cantabit vacuus’—it is a good adage; no security better against robbery than an empty pocket. But they may knock you on the head, and discover when too late—that you are not a gauger;” and he gave me a side look, to see what effect the allusion had.
“Faith, sir,” I returned, “I trust that that mistake shall not occur a second time, although to it I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. Hartley, with real or simulated surprise.