“‘Then you’re off now?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘in less than five minutes; my job is done, and well done. We’ve flammed the beaks (that’s the magistrates, you know) finely. I was to stay here till the latest moment I could this evening, to ascertain that the bloody redcoats—them was his words, a nasty blackguard!—was quiet, and nothing suspected, and then to get down, you know where, in time to make the necessary arrangements for to-morrow.’ ‘You’ll be there,’ says Will, ‘early to-morrow morning?’ ‘I’ll be on the Plashetts Green by twelve to-night,’ answers t’other, ‘or I’ll know the rights on it.’ With that he jumped into his gig or light cart, and went away like a madman. Will Sharpe came back into the kitchen, and had some beer, and I did not dare to move till he was gone; but at last he went, and I stole out into the back-yard, and got my brother’s girl to lead me here.” “About six did the man set off?” asked Warenne. “Yes,” answered she, “and I would have been here an hour ago if that prying divil of his companion had gone away at first, as he ought. I hate a man to sit and drink by himself; it is not neighbourly.” He was off, then, thought Warenne, before the troops had started; so far, so good. Nicholas, too, came the cross-road, so he did not meet him. “But now, Colonel,” said Nanny, interrupting his calculations, “I must go, or the girl will get into a scrape at home.” Warenne asked her if she wanted anything for herself. “If you mean pay, for doing my duty as a soldier’s widow ought,” said Nanny, “I’m above it; but you didn’t mean that, I reckon; for I am told you’re quite the gentleman, thof I do think an officer in his Majesty’s infantry would have had more delicacy; but no, no, I want nothing; we’ll talk of that some other day. Where’s the wench? Betsy! Betsy!” Betsy returned with a radiant face at having had nonsense talked to her for a quarter of an hour by a very handsome captain of dragoons. “Betsy, where are you?” muttered the old woman; “I didn’t do right to send that captain out with you. I heard him give you a guinea, too. They are all alike, them captains. I hope he has not turned your head; that would be but a bad return for your coming along with me this night.” “Lawk, Nanny!” said Betsy, laughing, “do you think I don’t know the value of an officer’s talk, and they quartered here for three months?” “You are a giddy child, Betsy,” answered Nanny; “but I’ll hope for the best.” Warenne informed Frank of the confirmation given to Nicholas’s story by Nanny’s intelligence. “We shall be a match for them yet, I trust,” continued he; “but now I must to work. I must send off an express to head-quarters—tell the adjutant to have one ready for me. The general will not thank me for the step I am about to take; so I must e’en write him as conciliatory a letter as I can. Good night.”