"But I entreat your pardon. I was interrupting the story." "I saw the rogue, sir," said Sir Humphrey, glancing significantly at the young man, "saw him clearly by the light of my carriage lanthorns. He was masked, of course, but I’d know him anywhere, and could denounce him to-morrow." He had risen to his feet, and with legs apart, standing face to face with Bathurst, he spoke every word as if he meant them to act as a threat. "There are plenty of soldiers about these parts now, even if the country folk won’t touch their vaunted hero of romance. I could get him hanged, sir, within a week. A cordon of soldiers round this Heath, my word to swear his identity, and.... But there!" he added with a jovial laugh, "’tis no concern of yours is it, sir? You were kind enough to promise me your advice. This is one of my alternatives, the score I’d wish to settle; there’s still the business I could offer the rogue." Sir Humphrey had looked the young man squarely in the face whilst he uttered his threat, but had seen nothing there, save the merriest, the most light-hearted of smiles. "I can scarce advise you, sir," said Bathurst, still smiling, "unless I know the business as well." "Well, sir, you know of old Lady Rounce, do you not? the meanest, ugliest old witch in the county, eh? Well! she is on her way to London, and carries with her a mass of money, wrung from her miserable tenants." "Faith, sir! you paint a most entrancing picture of the lady." "Now, an that rascal Beau Brocade were willing to serve me, he could at one stroke save his own neck from the gallows, enrich himself, right the innocent and confound a wicked old woman." "And how could this galaxy of noble deeds be accomplished at one stroke, sir?" "Her ladyship’s coach will pass over the Heath to-night. It should be at the cross-roads soon. There will be all the old harridan’s money and jewels to be got out of it." "Of course." "And also a packet of love-letters, which doubtless will be hidden away in the receptacle beneath the seat." "Letters?" queried Bathurst. "Hm! I doubt me if love-letters would tempt a gentleman of the road." "Nay, sir," replied his Honour, now dropping his voice to a confidential whisper, "these are letters which, if published, would compromise an artless young lady, whom old Lady Rounce pursues with her hatred and spite. Now I would give a hundred guineas to any person who will bring me those letters at the Moorhen to-morrow. Surely to a gentleman of the road the game would be worth the candle. Lady Rounce carries money with her besides, and her diamonds. What think you of it, sir?" "’Tis somewhat difficult to advise," said Bathurst, meditatively.