"Very true, good sir.—And besides, sir, you, Vanbeest Brown, who call yourself a captain in his Majesty's service, are no better or worse than a rascally mate of a smuggler!"
"Really, sir," said Bertram, "you are an old gentleman, and acting under some strange delusion, otherwise I should be very angry with you."
"Old gentleman, sir! strange delusion, sir!" said Sir Robert, colouring with indignation. "I protest and declare—Why, sir, have you any papers or letters that can establish your pretended rank, and estate, and commission?"
"None at present, sir," answered Bertram; "but in the return of a post or two—"
"And how do you, sir," continued the Baronet, "if you are a captain in his Majesty's service, how do you chance to be travelling in Scotland without letters of introduction, credentials, baggage, or anything belonging to your pretended rank, estate, and condition, as I said before?"
"Sir," replied the prisoner, "I had the misfortune to be robbed of my clothes and baggage."
"Oho! then you are the gentleman who took a post-chaise from—to Kippletringan, gave the boy the slip on the road, and sent two of your accomplices to beat the boy and bring away the baggage?"
"I was, sir, in a carriage as you describe, was obliged to alight in the snow, and lost my way endeavouring to find the road to Kippletringan. The landlady of the inn will inform you that on my arrival there the next day, my first inquiries were after the boy."
"Then give me leave to ask where you spent the night—not in the snow, I presume? you do not suppose that will pass, or be taken, credited, and received?"
"I beg leave," said Bertram, his recollection turning to the gipsy female, and to the promise he had given her, "I beg leave to decline answering that question."