"That’s for you to think on, my man. Two hundred guineas is a tidy sum. What? I have it," he said, slapping his own broad thigh and laughing heartily. "You shall play the daring highwayman! put on a mask and stop her ladyship’s coach, shout lustily: ’Stand and deliver!’ take the letters from her and ’tis done in a trice!" The idea of that meagre little creature playing the highwayman greatly tickled Sir Humphrey’s fancy, for the moment he even forgot the grave issues he himself had at stake, and his boisterous laugh went echoing through the old silent building. But as his Honour spoke this pleasant conceit, Master Mittachip’s thin, bloodless face assumed an air of deep thought, immediately followed by one of eager excitement. "The idea of the highwayman is not a bad one, Sir Humphrey," he said with a quiet chuckle, as soon as his patron’s hilarity had somewhat subsided, "but I am not happy astride a horse, and I know nought of pistols, but there’s no reason why we should not get a footpad to steal those letters for you. ’Tis their trade after all." "What do you mean? I was but jesting." "But I was not, Sir Humphrey. I was thinking of Beau Brocade." "The highwayman?" "Why not? He lives by robbery and hates all the quality, whom he plunders whene’er he has a chance. Your Honour has had experience, only last night ... eh?" "Well? What of it? Curse you, man, for a dotard! Why don’t you explain?" "’Tis simple enough, your Honour. You give him the news that her ladyship’s coach will cross the Heath to-night, tell him of her money and her jewels, offer him a hundred guineas more for the packet of letters.... He! he! he! He’ll do the rest, never fear!" Master Mittachip rubbed his bony hands together, his colourless eyes were twinkling, his thin lips quivering with excitement, dreams of that freehold bit of property became tangible once more. Sir Humphrey looked at him quietly for a moment or two: the little man’s excitement was contagious and his Honour had a great deal at stake: a beautiful woman whom he loved and her large fortune to boot. But reason and common-sense—not chivalry—were still fighting their battle against his daring spirit of adventure. "Tush, man!" he said after awhile, with the calmness of intense excitement, "you talk arrant nonsense when you say I’m to give a highwayman news of her ladyship’s coach and offer him money for the letters. Where am I to find him? How speak with him?" Mittachip chuckled inwardly. His Honour then was not averse to the plan. Already he was prepared to discuss the means of carrying it out. "’Tis a lawyer’s business to ferret out what goes on around him, Sir Humphrey. You can send any news you please to Beau Brocade within an hour from now." "How?"