"Oho!" laughed Jack, much amused at the smith’s earnestness, "it means that Sir Humphrey Challoner intends to lay information against one Beau Brocade, the noted highwayman, and to see how nice he’ll look with a rope round his neck and dangling six foot from the ground." An involuntary cry from Lady Patience, however drowned the laughter on his lips. "Tush, man!" he added seriously, "here’s a mighty fine piece of work we’re doing, frightening her ladyship..." But John Stich was scowling more heavily than ever. "If the scoundrel should dare..." he muttered, clenching his huge fists. His attitude was so threatening, and his expression so menacing, that in the midst of her new anxiety Lady Patience herself could not help smiling. Beau Brocade laughed outright. "Dare?..." he said lightly. "Why, of course he’ll dare. He’s eager enough in the pursuit of mischief, and must save the devil all the trouble of showing him the way. But now," he added more seriously, and turning to Mistress Betty, "tell me, child, saw you Sir Humphrey clearly?" "Aye! clear as daylight," she retorted, "the old beast..." "How was he dressed?" "Just like he was yesterday, sir. A brown coat, embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, riding-boots, three-cornered hat, and he had in his hand a gold-headed riding-crop." "Child!—child!" cried Bathurst, joyfully, "an those bright eyes of yours have not deceived you, yours’ll be the glory of having saved us all." "What are you going to do?" asked Patience, eagerly. "Pit my poor wits against those of Sir Humphrey Challoner," he replied gaily. "I don’t quite understand." He came up quite close to her and tried to meet her eyes. "But you trust me?" he asked. And she murmured,— "Absolutely." "May Heaven bless you for that word!" he said earnestly. "Then will you deign to do as I shall direct?" "Entirely." "Very well! Then whilst friend Stich will fetch my hat for me, will you write out a formal plaint, signed with your full name, stating that last night on the Heath you were waylaid and robbed by a man, whom I, your courier, saw quite plainly, and whom you have desired me to denounce?" "But..." "I entreat you there’s not a moment to be lost," he urged, taking pen, ink and paper from the old-fashioned desk close by, and placing them before her. "I’ll do as you wish, of course," she said, "but what is your purpose?" "For the present to take your ladyship’s plaint over to his Honour, Squire West, at the Court House." "You’ll be seen and recognised and..." "Not I. One or two of the yokels may perhaps guess who I am, but they’d do me no harm. I entreat you, do as I bid you. Every second wasted may imperil our chance of safety." He had such an air of quiet command about him that she instinctively obeyed him and wrote out the plaint as he directed, then gave it in his charge. He seemed buoyant and full of hope, and though her heart misgave her, she managed to smile cheerfully when he took leave of her.