By H.B Marriott Watson

There are few people that can truly say they have tricked Dick Ryder, and fewer still can say that in the end he did not wriggle out of his predicament (whatsoever it might be) and turn the tables on them. Yet of these few one, I will confess, was a woman, and a woman I had eyes for, though I am not fool enough to cast my wits away for a petticoat. I have always admired spirit in the sex, but there is a point at which it degenerates into vice, and of such shrews or vixens I wish any man joy. They are good to be beat if you be so inclined, but for myself I have never taken up stick, lash, or fist against any woman, and never would so long as I am free of the topsman.

The adventure happened when I was by Maidstone in the summer of 1683, coming up from Dover very merry. I had ridden round from Deal and lain at the Crown in Dover the night before, and I warrant I had made the people of the inn open their eyes with what tales I told of Court and Old Rowley and affairs of State. I cannot say why, but all the way from Deal to London I seemed possessed of a devil that would wag me, whether I willed it or not. I am not used to be so precipitate, but ‘twas as if a cask of French brandy had gotten into my brains and set ‘em a-quarrelling. At least, I was gay-headed and recked of nothing. Not that I care for any risk or peril under the sun if it be necessary; but this was to go rollicking, with the gait, so to say, of a drunken man, whistling on danger and leering at fate—a mighty foolish thing to do for any man. There is no question but I would not have fallen into that blunder by Leeds Castle if I had been in any other mood. But there it was—the devil was in me, as I say.

I pulled out of Dover pretty late, and with a parting wave of my hand at as sweet a kinxiewinsy as I have seen, I started on the London Road in good temper and good fettle. But ere I had gone a mile or so, I came up with a little fat, dark fellow that had been at the inn and had listened agog to my tales. It was, “Lord, sir, say you so?” and “Bless me, I would not ha’ believed it!” and then again, “Save us, what shall we hear next?” Well, this little black man, as it seems, was steward, or factotum, or what-ye-may-call-it to my Lady Dane, who, also, as it seemed, had lain at Dover overnight, having crossed in a packet from France, and was on her way to Winchester by Reigate and Guildford. The fellow was not given to talking, but more to listening, with his “bless me-s,” but he was a simple rustic, and you may fancy that I led him on so that he opened his mouth as wide as I my ears. For this Lady Dane was a rich widow (so he said), and, moreover, a woman that was greatly besought in marriage by many suitors of all degrees, and both for her looks and her money. ‘Tis not I that would blame any man that saw his chance to seize beauty and booty alike together. ‘Tis the worst of it that they generally go singly—at least, to judge by what I have seen of fine ladies. Well, says the little black man, my Lady Dane was on a journey to her home on the Itchin in the company of her niece, that was daughter to the late Sir Philip’s brother, and he was going afore to prepare for them at Maidstone, as they were not yet started. It seemed that my lady had property in Maidstone, and was for giving a water-fountain to the town in her kindness.

“My lady,” says he, puffing himself out, “rises late, like any lady of the Court.”

“Why,” said I, “she must be a rare fine woman—that she must, from your accounts. I would like to clap eyes on her, so that I might compare her with the beauties;” for he was the most obsequious in praise of his mistress that ever you heard, and vexed my soul. “And the niece,” says I, “would be pretty handsome too.”

“The niece!” says he, with a gesture of contempt, waving his hands in a foreign way in imitation of what he had seen in France, and thus nearly falling off his nag. “Oh! the niece is well enough,” says he, and recovered himself carefully. “Je ne sais quoi,” says he, and shook his head with a mighty knowing look. “She would do pretty well, but not in a capital, not in Paris or London, where there is need always of the most elegant style. You, sir, with your knowledge of cities, know that. You have the air.”

It tickled me to see the little fool a-sitting uneasily on his big horse, with his toes cocked out on each side, looking for all the world like a radish that would split as he bobbed and bounced up and down upon the saddle, and mimicking foreign airs and tongues and manners as if ‘twere natural to him. But I kept a grave face until I had gotten out of him what I wanted, by which time ‘twas late in the afternoon (for we had ridden together all the way), and we were within ten miles of Maidstone. So I bade him good-bye and good-luck, for he was not worth any gentleman wasting his hands on, and, turning the mare up a lane, left him to pursue his way to Maidstone alone. But a mile or so along the lane I pitched on a wayside tavern, where I took leave to rest and refresh the mare and myself while waiting; for, from what I had gathered from the steward, the lady would make no start before twelve, in which case she would not be in Maidstone before six at the least. So there I sat and waited, with never a companion, and not even a serving-wench to clack tongues with. A little before six I rode down and came into the Maidstone highway near by Leeds Castle, where the moat was shining in the descending sun, and the pastures spread very ample and green to the heights beyond. I waited there for an hour in a convenient copse, and in the end got very tired.

“Damme!” says I, with a yawn, “this Mother Beauty has overslept herself for certain, and will save her jewels after all;” for I was in no mood to wait until the next day for the chance, being due in London. There was the lake, first gleaming with the sun, then with long shadows afloat and stretching, and at the last plunged in vacant blankness. This was near upon twilight, and I was for cursing myself as a fool to attend upon the whims of a woman, when there was the sound in the distance of rumbling wheels, and I pulled Calypso out and waited by the grassy border of the road.

‘Twas not long before the chaise came up, rolling in a dignified way down the hill, and speaking of wealth and consideration in every spoke and appointment. There was the coachman with his fellow beside him, and two spirited horses, and, if you please, by the lackey was a huge and bell-mouthed blunderbuss, like a brass viol. I could ha’ yelled for laughter at the sight of them and their brave preparations. Rip me! what a formidable array ‘twas, with two gallant fellows in livery, all ready to blow the soul out of such as Galloping Dick and his kidney! Why, the first time I ever clapped peepers on ‘em I could see that there was no fight in them. So I put the mare right across the way and waited. The twilight was come now, and the coachman called out to me to stand aside.

“Are you drunk?” says he, as he draws up of necessity.

“No,” says I; “I am only a poor fellow that’s thirsty and tired of waiting on you, and would like to be drunk,” said I.

“’Tis a ‘wayman!” shouted t’other lackey; and pulled up his blunderbuss. But I put the point of my sword in his wrist, and he dropped it with a howl.

“What’s this?” now cried a voice from the interior of the chaise; and, pushing the mare to the window, I looked in. There was the lady, sure enough, of whom the little fat man had spoke; and he had been right about her looks, for in her anger she was mighty handsome. But her companion, that was the niece, according to the steward, was by no means what he had suggested, being a tall girl of a delicate beauty, with a gentle kindness in her eye, very becoming to modest virginity. My lady was in a storm of anger.

“Who are you?” she said furiously.

“Why,” said I, “I know not if ‘tis of consequence to your ladyship to discover who it is or who it isn’t that rumpads you, so long as you be rumpadded; but if it be any convenience to you, why, set me down in your accounts as Galloping Dick of the Roads, and debit me with what you will,” says I.

“You would rob me?” said she, looking at me sharply, and, as I could see, controlling herself with an effort.

“Your ladyship has a mind that flies direct to the point,” said I, politely; “I call miss in witness of its quickness. Never so much as a word have I spoke afore you out with your guess. ‘You would rob me,’ says you. Why, damme! I will not deny a lady.”

She looked at me in doubt for a moment, as if she would count me up, and then it was that I got my first idea of her quality, for her gaze pierced me through, and there was capacity in her very bearing.

“You would rob a poor woman?” said she next, in a softer voice. “I thought ‘twas only fat, bloated purses that you gentlemen of the road would steal.”

“No,” says I, “I take nothing under five hundred guineas, and if there be some jewels to crown the pile I will not refuse them”—for this, I knew from the little fat fool’s talk, was what her ladyship carried.

She bit her lip, but still kept her temper.

“I see you are pleased to jest with me,” said she. “You gentlemen are as light of heart as of finger. Come, you shall have my twenty guineas, if you are so hard, and I will even refrain my curse, if you will kindly withdraw your head and allow me to proceed”—and at that she thrust towards me a little bag. She was as cool as ever I have seen man or woman, which was the more remarkable, seeing how evil was her real temper. But I took the bag and still kept my place.

“Hark you, madam,” said I, for I was not ill-pleased to have a duel worthy of my tongue and skill; “Galloping Dick never makes a wanton boast, nor asks what he gets not, nor is afraid of his own mind. There is five hundred guineas with you, the which I will beg of you for a keepsake, and in kind memory also will ask those pretty toys.” And I pointed at her necklace. “Had I not been kept a-yawning my head off the two hours by the wayside, maybe I would have taken the one and left t’other; but, sink me! I am of a mind for both now,” says I.

Again she shot me a glance, and I thought for a moment that she would have shouted an order to her servants, and have driven on and trusted to chance. But perhaps she came to the conclusion that the hazard was too great, as indeed it was, for I would have clapped holes through chaise and coachman ere they had rolled three paces, and her ladyship might have come off in that case worse than I was for leaving her. At anyrate, she did nothing so foolish, but merely uttered an exclamation in which her fury and her chagrin were indicated, and says she, in angry despair,—

“Will nothing make you give up? Cannot I persuade you in any way to use me decently? Lord forgive you, I thought that the toby had some sense of gallantry.”

“By the Lord!” said I, promptly, “and if there is any huff that says ‘no’ to that, I would run him through his midriff. We are no money-weasels, and least of all, Dick Ryder. And maybe that name is known to you, madam,” said I.

“Why, I have heard it, sure,” says she, eagerly. “And those that have spoken of you have given you a good name, for a brave and chivalrous fellow.”

“I have a good repute, and that widely,” said I, for ‘twas true enough, and maybe she had heard of my adventure with Old Rowley and the Duchess of Cleveland, in which I played a pretty figure.

“Why, of course,” said she; “I recall you now. Your name, Captain, has been bruited about the roads from one end of the kingdom to the other, and it has always come to my ears in good condition. If I recall aright, there was a tale in which you did some good to an honest woman.”

“Does your ladyship refer to Mrs Barbara Crawford and to her abduction?” said I.

“Why,” said she, “now ‘tis what I did think of, more especially as a great friend of mine acquainted me with the facts.”

“’Twas on the York Road,” said I, looking at her, for her glib tongue of a sudden had made me shy at her, like a colt of two years.

“’Twas there, Captain, as I remember now well,” said she.

“Well,” says I, “’tis strange you should ha’ happened upon some witnesses to that little episode, for I thought it had passed out of mind. But seeing your ladyship is so mindful of me, let me hang if I do not mark it upon my account with you.”

This I said, having discovered how greatly false she spoke, for ‘twas not on York Road, but by Guildford, that the affair happened, and I would swear that she had heard not a word of it, which, nevertheless, she might very well have done, seeing that it was notorious in the town at that time.

“I am always glad to meet a famous man,” said she.

“No more than I a handsome lady,” said I. “And to show how deeply I am in earnest, I will forego half the account and all the jewels for a salutation from miss there.”

To say the truth, I had enjoyed my bout with the lady, and was disposed to be lenient to her for all her airs and sharpness. But the sight of the niece’s eyes of a sudden warmed me and incited me; for she was looking at me gently, with an odd expression of interest and of wonder, and her bosom rose and fell swiftly. You may guess that that set it on even a swifter ebb and tide.

“What d’ye mean?” asked her ladyship.

“I am a gentleman adventurer,” said I, “and, damme! I will not deny my calling; ‘tis efficient at the least. But if miss there will permit me the salutation, rip me! you shall go scot-free.”

At that, miss shrank into her corner, all the expression fled from her face, which was white and stark. But my lady turns on her.

“Hear you that, Celia?” says she. “Buss and let us get on, since this gallant gentleman must have already delayed himself over-long.”

“You are right,” said I. “’Tis a scurvy long time since I ha’ been waiting here.”

“If you haste not, Celia,” says she, very ironic in tone, “the gentleman will be getting impatient—as well he may, seeing your pale beauty.”

Now this (for ‘twas nothing but a sneer) set me against her, the girl being mightily more handsome than herself and of a fine frailty. But I said nothing, only looked at miss, who seemed as if she would have withered out of the chaise.

“Celia!” cries her ladyship, sharply.

“You—you must be jesting, madam. You cannot mean it,” says miss in a low voice.  “I have stood much from you, but this insult—”

But my lady broke in, “You will do what I say,” she said harshly; “I command you.”

“I will not,” says t’other. “Indeed, madam, I may not. Ask me not so to violate myself.”

Upon that her ladyship turned about. “Hark ye,” she said, and whispered in her ear, and upon that, observing her to wince, she said aloud, “What, d’ye hesitate, when ‘tis to spare five hundred guineas and some odd jewels, including your own?”

“I—I value not mine, madam,” says miss, trembling.

“Well, there is mine,” said she, “and if they be of not much marketable value, there is a higher value I put upon them, since they were given me by your dear uncle. You shall save them.”

But, Lord! I am a pretty judge of jewels, and she was lying; for there was more worth in her jewels far than in her guineas. But I said nothing, only listened, to hear what miss would answer.

She hesitated, and her ladyship made a peremptory gesture. “Why, ‘tis cheap enough,” said she, sardonically. Miss still hesitated, and then, as it seemed, on a rap from her ladyship, very white of face and drawn, leaned across to the window. I saw the large eyes gleam in the faint light, and they were like pools at even in which the stars do set; but her lips were trembling.

“I have never bought jewels so cheap,” says my lady with her sneer, thinking, no doubt, that the bargain was struck now and the act consummated.

“No!” says I; “I kiss no maid against her will. Fetch forth the pieces and the toys, my lady.”

Miss fell back, still white, and I saw something leap in her eye. She put her kerchief before her face and sobbed.

“Damme!” says I roughly, “out with the goldfinches, or must I make bold to help myself from ye? There is too much prattle here, and I have delayed long enough.”

The lady had gone red with anger, and moved her arm as though she would have struck someone in her fury; but suddenly containing herself, and considering, as I must suppose, that ‘twould put no embargo on the guineas and the diamonds, she says, says she,—

“If my niece will not save my jewels at the price, I, at anyrate, will save hers.” And she leaned softly towards me.

Now in a flash I saw what she intended, and how she would go any length to preserve her property, the which gave me but a poor thought of her for a basely avaricious woman with no pretensions to honour, and (as was clear) a very brutal mind and temper towards the girl. So I did that which maybe I should not ha’ done, though ‘tis hard to say, and no one ever accused Dick Ryder justly of handling a woman harshly. But she would have put me in a hole else, with her quickness and her cunning; and there was only the one way out, which I took.

“No,” says I, “there is no talk of miss’s jewels. What she may have she may keep. I war not on pretty girls. And as for yours, madam—damme! there’s nothing will save ‘em! No, split me, there isn’t!”

She fell quite white, as I could see even in the gloom, and for a perceptible moment hesitated. ‘Twas then, I suppose, that she made up her mind, casting this way and that venomously and desperately for a way out.

“Well,” said she, in a muffled voice, “I cry you mercy. Here’s what ye are wanting!” And she flung her bag at me; and with her fingers, that trembled, undid the necklet she wore, and handed it to me.

“Come, that’s the mood in which to take reverses,” says I cheerfully. “I’ll warrant there’s more where these came from, and more behind them again; for I should think shame to rob the last jewel from a neck that so becomes ‘em.” This I said by way of consolation for her vanity, if that were touched at my previous refusal. But she said nothing to that; only put her head nearer, and addressed me with a chastened voice,—

“Look ye, Captain, I think you be a hard man, but not so hard perhaps as you may seem. I ask not for myself, as you’ve taken all I had, but for my niece here, who has had the privilege of your benevolence to retain what she has. You have said your name is Ryder, and I will believe you. ‘Tis nothing to me now if it be Ryder or Creech, as—”

“Creech!” says I, for I knew Dan Creech well, and had, indeed, been in some surprises with him.

“Yes, Creech!” said she, looking me steady in the face. “I was warned of a ruffian named Creech that would haunt this road to Maidstone.”

“Well, Creech,” said I, “will reap nothing from bare acres.”

“No,” said she, “save from my niece.”

And there she spoke truly enough, as I saw; for if Creech was on that road (and maybe he was), I knew him better than to suppose he would be content with their asseverations. He would rummage and overhaul, would Creech, and there was never gold or farden would escape Danny’s notice, not if ‘twas as pitch black as midnight.

“As you have been so generous,” said my lady, “I thought that maybe you would go further, and save my niece from robbery and me from further needless alarms. It seems to me, though I may be prejudiced, that you owe me that at least.”

I thought on that for a moment, and—well, I had not spared miss to let her fall a victim later; so says I,—

“You mean that I shall give you my protection?”

“I see that you are quick of your wits,” said she, speaking evenly now, and not with any irony apparent.

“Done!” says I. “I will conduct ye to within a mile of Maidstone, and you shall go secure. I’ll swear to that.”

“Will ye not be afraid to venture so closely?” asked she.

“I will conduct ye up to the doors of Maidstone,” said I. “Damme! I’ll see you safe within the precincts.”

“Spoken like a brave knight of the roads,” said her ladyship, and lay back in her seat. “And now, perhaps, you will be good enough to bid my coachman drive on.”

There was something in her tones which should have given me pause even then, if I had been less pleased with myself. But I had been hard with her, not in the matter of the jewels only, and I was disposed to meet her on a point, for all that I was sure she bullied the girl. So I rode on in the front and the coach rolled after me, for all the world as though I were advance guard in protection of beauty, which, after all, is pretty much what I was. There was no denying looks to her ladyship, but she was of a hard, handsome face that has never taken me. You would swear she would never change till the tomb swallowed her, but would grow old and fade white insensibly, battling for her beauty all the way, and holding its handsome ghost until the end. If there was anyone that would be attracted by her person (and there must ha’ been many), to say nothing of her purse, why, thank the Lord, ‘twas not I. I would sooner lie in shackles at Newgate than have lain in shackles to her at my lady’s house. Not but what I can speak generously of her (as witness what I have wrote of her beauty), for I came out of the affair all right, yet by an accident, as you will see.

We had got near by Maidstone, within three miles, and the twilight had thickened into dark. There was never a soul upon the lonely road, for you may conceive that I kept a sharp eye, not only for Danny, if he should be about, as was possible, but also lest my lady should play any trick upon me by the way. But I was not much afraid of that, as I knew there was nothing between us and Maidstone save a few scattered cottages and an insignificant village or two, which I would have warranted to scare with a blank charge. So when we were, as I say, within three miles of the town, her ladyship put out her head and called to me.

“See you,” said she, “there is the town drawing near, and you expose yourself in the front. It will serve if you ride behind and be for your better safety, Captain.”

“Why,” said I, “what the deuce do I mind of riding before or behind! There’s none will take me, and I will fetch ye into Maidstone, as I have said.”

“Well, Captain,” said she, with a laugh, “I will confess ‘twas not wholly your safety that moved me, which is not strange in the circumstances; but I should feel more secure myself were my escort in the rear, from which side ‘tis more likely any assault would be made.”

“I came at you in the front, madam,” said I.

“Ah! Captain Ryder is Captain Ryder,” said she, beaming, “and was not afraid of my blunderbusses and my rascals. But conceive a less brave and straightforward adventurer that sees not only blunderbusses and lackeys, but a gallant swordsman to boot in front. ‘Tis surely from the rear such a one would attack!”

“Oh, well,” said I indifferently, “afore or behind matters nothing. You will have no assault while Dick Ryder’s sign-manual is on you, and that’s his toasting-fork.”

And so I fell behind, as she wished, and we proceeded. It was true enough, what she said, that the body of the coach would protect me from any eyes in front, and that I could make off more easily from the rear; but, Lord love you! I had no thoughts of that; and if I had been thinking of it, it might have occurred to me that, being in the van, I could see more plainly into what we were running than if I were in the rear. And, sure enough, that came near my undoing, for we had not gone two miles further, and were still some way out of the town bounds, when the coach suddenly pulled up before a tavern in a little village thereby, of which I cannot recall the name. We had passed several of these, and, as I have said, I cared not two straws for them, and so I was mildly exercised in my mind at this unexpected stoppage, and, coming to myself  moved the mare slowly round t’other side of the coach to see what was forward.

“If she is thirsty,” said I to myself, “she shall drink,” and, if it came to that, I was thirsty myself. And I was ready to hold up the innkeeper with a pistol-butt while we all drank a draught to our better acquaintance and miss’s eyes, maybe. But as I came round I was suddenly aware of a small crowd of people, some wearing uniforms, armed with halberds and lanthorns, and in the middle a short important gentleman with a paper in his hand. I had no sooner made this discovery than her ladyship shrieked out very loud,—

“Seize that man! He is a highwayman!”

At that, all alert, I pulled Calypso round and put my heels into her flanks; but there was a bank of people before me in that quarter and the chaise to one side and the tavern t’other, and ere I could draw half a dozen hands were on the mare, and two of a posse that was in the throng had their pistols on the level.

There was I, taken, netted like any duck in a decoy, for certain, and with no prospect even of a struggle, for the numbers against me were great. I saw that in the twinkling of an eye, and so sat still, making no effort to escape.

“What is this?” said I loudly. “Hands off, sirrah! Do you dare arrest an innocent man? Who is in authority here, and what’s his foolish name?” said I.

At that the short man came forward, and I saw that he wore a long gown edged with some sort of fleece. “Who are you?” I asked, assuming the most haughty, arrogant air, “and under what pretence is a gentleman that is on the King’s business arrested and delayed?”

“Sir,” he said, hesitating, “I am Mayor of the town, and ‘tis at her ladyship’s request—”

“I know nothing of her ladyship,” said I, interrupting angrily. “If her ladyship blunders, and you through her, you must take the consequence, Mr Mayor.”

He seemed put about at that, but my lady herself intervened, or I would have managed things for myself pretty easily.

“I charge that man with stealing from me jewels and money to the amount of five hundred guineas, which you will find upon him,” said she, for she was now out of the coach and standing in the road among them all.

“Yes, your ladyship,” says the Mayor anxiously, “it shall be attended to.”

“Well, someone shall smart for this,” said I, “ere many days are out.”

“And my witness,” pursued her ladyship calmly, “sits in the coach, and is my late husband’s niece.”

“Oh, a witness,” says Mr Mayor, brightening up.

“To say nothing of my two fellows,” she ended.

With that I saw it was all up, for she was not one to lose her head, and with that plain issue before the Mayor, he could not blunder very far. So I said nothing more, but sat in the clutches of the officers cudgelling my wits for a way out.

“Celia,” says she, “is this the man that attacked us upon the road and stole my jewels?”

“I—I cannot discern very well—’tis dark,” stammered miss, and, rip me! I blessed the chit for that reluctance, though ‘twas useless, as it happened, for says her ladyship,—

“Nonsense, baggage!” she says: “you can see quite plain. You are a coward, that’s what it is. Here, James and Joshua, what say you—is this the villain?”

Whereupon the lackeys both swore with one voice that it was I, and that I had attacked them brutally; and says one that I had put a bullet near his leg, whereas ‘twas his own silly blunderbuss that he dropped.

“That is sufficient, my lady,” says the Mayor, looking very pompous, and to that added what gave me the clue as to this unexpected trap. ‘Twas nothing more or less than that little toad, the fat steward, who, for all his gabble and talk, had forgot to say that the Mayor of Maidstone was to come forth to meet her ladyship in state, in token of gratitude for favours to the townsfolk. ‘Twas along of that fountain, as it seems, and I cursed the little fat fool in my heart in that, being so garrulous, he had put a limit to his tongue. But at the same time I could not but admire her ladyship’s admirable skill and cunning. Sink me! she was a wonder with her quickness, so to contrive to drag me into the trap. But these considerations availed me nothing, and I will confess that I saw no road of escape, though I am far from saying that I was beaten or that some notion would not ha’ come to me later. Why, I have broke out of Newgate jug in the face of all. Yet this is what happened. In the thick of this talk and confusion, and even while the throng pressed upon me and my captors, suddenly a voice cried out from the coach.

“There is the other, seize him!—there he goes, on the right there!” This was miss’s voice, as I recognised, though I was amazed, and for the time did not pick up my wits. But in a second all was uproar.

“Who d’ye mean? What is it, you baggage?” cried out her ladyship.

“Seize him!—there he goes!” cries miss again, leaping from the coach in a state of excitement; and to her ladyship: “Why, the other, my lady!—the man that assisted—Creech, was it not?”

In an instant I saw how it was and what she intended, and I believe her ladyship, in her quickness, saw it just after me; for in the confusion the throng swayed, and some ran this way and others that, and there were my two jailers gaping into the darkness like moping owls.

‘Twas but the work of a moment to wrench free an arm from one and deliver t’other a rap with a pistol on his skull; and at the same time I wheeled Calypso about and broke a third that stood there in the wind. The three thus scattered, with a whistle to the mare I dropped low in the saddle, and breaking out of the circle thundered down the road at a gallop, while all behind me arose cries and shouts, and above all her ladyship’s shrill voice, screaming with fury.

I rode till I reached the first turning on the left, and then went up a black lane for some distance; after which I paused and listened. Sounds still came to me, sailing on the night, and I stood awhile, chuckling to think how deeply her ladyship was cursing, and how smartly I had evaded her. And upon that comes the thought of miss.

“Why,” thinks I, “she’s a heart o’ gold, is miss; and that wild cat will be flying in her face with her claws;” and, the devil being in me, as I have said, all through that business, I turned about and came back into the road.

I jogged along comfortably until I was within a hundred yards of the inn, and here was the same confusion that I had left.

“What’s this?” said I to a fellow that passed me.

“Oh,” says he, “’tis a highwayman that has robbed a lady and is got off.”

“Stab me!” says I, “what fools these traps be!” and I moved on, until I came by the coach, where I stood in the darkness.

I heard her ladyship’s voice, coming out of the inn, and still angry, and there was several in the roadway, but the traps had vanished, and, I make no doubt, were looking for me busily. As I stood there thinking, someone comes from t’other side of the chaise, and I saw it was miss. At the same time she saw me and started.

“What do you here?” she asked tremulously.

“Why,” says I, “I am a-looking anxiously for a tobyman that has wickedly robbed a lady.”

“Go,” she cried, “you will be caught. They will be back directly.”

“No,” said I, “I am not the man to leave other people with my burdens.”

“What do you mean?” said she after a pause.

“There is her ladyship,” said I, “and there is yourself.”

“Oh, I am well used to deal with her ladyship,” she said, a little bitterly. “You need be in no alarm.”

“Well, ‘tis I shall deal with her ladyship this time,” said I.

“You are mad!” she said. “Go—go—I hear them coming!”

“No,” says I.

“Oh, go,” she pleaded anxiously. “If you stay you will do me no good, and yourself all harm. I think you are bewitched to stay.”

With that I looked at her, and though I could not see her very clearly in the small light, I vow she was mightily pretty. I suppose ‘twas the devil in me moved me, or maybe ‘twas only her beauty; but, at anyrate, said I,—

“If I may have now what I denied myself upon the road there, I will go,” said I.

She drew herself straight and I could see her under-lip quiver.

“Sir,” she said; “I know you to be a highwayman; at least, let me think you a gentleman.”

“Damme!” says I bluntly, for I was taken aback at this. “Damme! no one shall say I am no gentleman, for I am that afore everything else, as I will prove on any buck’s body.” And so, with a big congee in my stirrups, I turned and left her.