"Off you go to the carriage—quick!"
He turned to the now murmuring group.
"What do you want?" he said. "I can't fight all of you: I'll fight the soldier—make a ring, to see fair play——"
He glanced over his shoulder: the two girls had disappeared: now he breathed freely.
"But, look here," said he in a most amicable tone, "you've had a glass—any one can see that—and it's no use a man trying to fight if he's a bit unsteady on his pins; you know that quite well. And I don't want to fight any of you. If you ask me in a friendly way, I'll go down to the Royal Oak and have something with you; or I'll treat you, if you like that better. I call that fair."
And they seemed to think it fair, too; so they picked up their companion (who looked drowsy) and helped him along. But they hadn't gone half-a-dozen yards when two dark figures appeared at the top of the chalk cutting; and these, when they came quickly up, Vincent to his surprise discovered to be the coachman and footman.
"Where are the young ladies?" he demanded, instantly and angrily.
"Miss Drexel is on the box, sir—she sent us to you," said the coachman—staring with amazement at the revellers, and no doubt wondering when the fighting was about to begin.
"Oh, go away back!" said he. "Get the ladies into the carriage and drive them home! I'm going to have a drink with these good fellows—I'll follow on foot!"
"I'm quite sure, sir, Miss Drexel won't go," said the coachman.