The moment was fortunate for Luke, and, in all probability, saved his life. He extricated himself from the ferryman's grasp, regained his feet, and, what was of more importance, the weapon he had thrown away.
"Villain!" cried he, about to plunge the spear with all his force into his enemy's side, "you shall——"
The whistle was again heard without.
"Don't you hear that?" cried Jem: "'Tis Turpin's call."
"Turpin!" echoed Luke, dropping the point of his weapon. "Unbar the door, you treacherous rascal, and admit him."
"Well, say no more about it, Sir Luke," said Jem, fawningly; "I knows I owes you my life, and I thank you for it. Take back the lowre. He should not have shown it me—it was that as did all the mischief."
"Unbar the door, and parley not," said Luke contemptuously.
Jem complied with pretended alacrity, but real reluctance, casting suspicious glances at Luke as he withdrew the bolts. The door at length being opened, haggard, exhausted, and covered with dust, Dick Turpin staggered into the hut.
"Well, I am here," said he, with a hollow laugh. "I've kept my word—ha, ha! I've been damnably put to it; but here I am, ha, ha!" And he sank upon one of the stools.
"We heard you were apprehended," said Luke. "I am glad to find the information was false," added he, glancing angrily at the ferryman.