As he spoke, he crossed the groom’s hand with a piece of silver, and having removed from the holsters a brace of pistols, which he deposited in the ample pockets of his riding-coat, he left the stable.
“You will keep an eye on the stables, and let me know if any one comes near them in my absence,” he said, in a tone which made the groom feel that he was not a man to be trifled with.
With an unconstrained, independent air, Master Pearson entered the house, where the Squire stood ready to receive him. Alethea came into the supper-room for a few moments, but not liking the manner or appearance of their guest, asked leave of her father to withdraw, guessing indeed that the Squire would not require her presence during the meal.
About the hour at which the family generally retired to rest, Master Pearson rose from his seat, declaring it was time for him to take his departure.
“I must be twenty miles from hence before midnight,” he observed, laughing. “I make it a rule if possible to put about that distance between the place where I am last seen, and the spot I sleep at, on most nights of the week. It is seldom I should thus fail to prove an alibi if necessary, while it would be difficult for any one, however sharp, to catch me.”
The Squire accompanied his guest to the stable, where Master Pearson carefully examined his horse’s hoofs, as well as the girths of his saddle, threw himself into it, and shaking hands with his host, started off at a quick trot down the avenue.
“A hard life he must have of it,” thought the Squire, who was beginning to be fonder of his ease than of physical exertion. “I hope that he is trustworthy, for he has my life, and that of a good many other worthy gentlemen, in his power.”