"It is strange you should not recollect it till this moment," replied Parravicin. "But be your inamorata whom she may—even the rich widow of Watling-street, of whom you prate so much—you must put her off to-night."
"But, Sir Paul——"
"I will have no denial," replied the knight, peremptorily. "If you refuse, you will find me worse to deal with than Disbrowe. You must remain at the door till I come out. And now let us lose no more time. I am impatient to behold the lady."
"Into what a cursed scrape have I got myself!" thought the major, as he walked by the side of his companion, ever and anon casting wistful glances over his shoulder. "I am fairly caught on the horns of a dilemma. I instinctively feel that Disbrowe is dogging us. What will become of me? The moment this harebrained coxcomb enters the house, I will see whether a light pair of heels cannot bear me out of harm's way."
By this time, they had reached a passage known as Bear-alley (all traces of which have been swept away by modern improvements), and threading it, they entered a narrow thoroughfare, called Castle-street. Just as they turned the corner, Pillichody again noticed the figure at the further end of the alley, and, but for his fears of the knight, would have instantly scampered off.
"Are we far from the house?" inquired Parravicin.
"No," replied the major, scarcely able to conceal his trepidation. "It is close at hand—and so is the lady's husband."
"So much the better," replied the knight; "it will afford you some amusement to beat him off. You may affect not to know him, and may tell him the lady's husband is just come home—her husband!—do you take, Pillichody?"
"I do—ha! ha! I do," replied the major, in a quavering tone.
"But you don't appear to relish the jest," rejoined Parravicin, sneeringly.