"Hey, sir! Hey!" he was shouting, and craning his fat neck in search of Master Mittachip, who had incontinently disappeared, "the Court is determinating—Squire West will grant you the interview which you seek.... Lud preserve me!" he added in noble and gigantic wrath, "I do believe the impious malapert was trying to fool me ... sending me on a fool’s errand ... _me_ ... Jeremiah Inch, beadle of this parish!..." Bathurst waited a moment or two until the worst of the beadle’s anger had cooled down a little, then he took a silver crown from his pocket, and pushed past the worthy into the precincts of the house. "The interview you’ve arranged for, friend," he said quietly; "will do equally well for her ladyship’s courier." Master Inch was somewhat taken off his balance. Mittachip’s disappearance and this stranger’s impertinence had taken his breath away. Before he had time to recover it, Bathurst had pressed the silver crown into his capacious palm. "Now tell Squire West, friend," he said with that pleasant air of authority which he knew so well how to assume, "that I am here by the command of Lady Patience Gascoyne and am waiting to speak with him." Master Inch was so astonished that he found no word either of protest or of offended dignity. He looked doubtfully at the crown for a second or two, weighed it in his mind against the problematical half-crown promised by the defaulting attorney, and then said majestically,— "I will impart her ladyship’s cognomen to his Honour myself." The next moment Jack Bathurst found himself alone in a small private room of the Court House, looking forward with suppressed excitement to the interview with Squire West, which in a moment of dare-devil, madcap frolic, yet with absolute coolness and firm determination, he had already arranged in his mind. CHAPTER XXIV HIS HONOUR, SQUIRE WEST Squire West was an elderly man, with a fine military presence and a pleasant countenance beneath his bob-tail wig: in his youth he had been reckoned well-favoured, and had been much petted by the ladies at the county balls. Owing to this he had retained a certain polish of manner not often met with in the English country gentry of those times. He came forward very politely to greet the courier of Lady Patience Gascoyne. "What hath procured to Brassington the honour of a message from Lady Patience Gascoyne?" he asked, motioning Bathurst to a chair, and seating himself behind his desk. "Her ladyship herself is staying in the village," replied Jack, "but would desire her presence to remain unknown for awhile." "Oh, indeed!" said the Squire, a little flurried at this unexpected event, "but ... but there is no inn fitting to harbour her ladyship in this village, and ... and ... if her ladyship would honour me and my poor house..."