The Justice, got on his feet as he concluded this speech, and looked as bold as he could. I drew close beside him and his clerk, Mr. Faggot, thinking the moment favourable for my own liberation, and intimated to Mr. Foxley my determination to stand by him. But Mr. Herries only laughed at the menacing posture which we assumed. ‘My good neighbour,’ said he, ‘you talk of a witness. Is yon crazy beggar a fit witness in an affair of this nature?’
‘But you do not deny that you are Mr. Herries of Birrenswork, mentioned in the Secretary of State’s warrant?’ said Mr. Foxley.
‘How can I deny or own anything about it?’ said Herries, with a sneer. ‘There is no such warrant in existence now; its ashes, like the poor traitor whose doom it threatened, have been dispersed to the four winds of heaven. There is now no warrant in the world.’
‘But you will not deny,’ said the Justice, ‘that you were the person named in it; and that—eh—your own act destroyed it?’
‘I will neither deny my name nor my actions, Justice,’ replied Mr. Herries, ‘when called upon by competent authority to avow or defend them. But I will resist all impertinent attempts either to intrude into my private motives, or to control my person. I am quite well prepared to do so; and I trust that you, my good neighbour and brother sportsman, in your expostulation, and my friend Mr. Nicholas Faggot here, in his humble advice and petition that I should surrender myself, will consider yourselves as having amply discharged your duty to King George and government.’
The cold and ironical tone in which he made this declaration; the look and attitude, so nobly expressive of absolute confidence in his own superior strength and energy, seemed to complete the indecision which had already shown itself on the side of those whom he addressed.
The Justice looked to the clerk—the clerk to the Justice; the former HA’D, EH’D, without bringing forth an articulate syllable; the latter only said, ‘As the warrant is destroyed, Mr. Justice, I presume you do not mean to proceed with the arrest?’
‘Hum—aye—why, no—Nicholas—it would not be quite advisable—and as the Forty-five was an old affair—and—hem—as my friend here will, I hope, see his error—that is, if he has not seen it already—and renounce the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender—I mean no harm, neighbour—I think we—as we have no POSSE, or constables, or the like—should order our horses—and, in one word, look the matter over.’
‘Judiciously resolved,’ said the person whom this decision affected; ‘but before you go, I trust you will drink and be friends?’
‘Why,’ said the Justice, rubbing his brow, ‘our business has been—hem—rather a thirsty one.’