"Maybe aye, maybe no," says the fellow, grinning beneath his mask, "but that's neither here nor there, master, the question betwixt us being a coat." "What coat?" cries Raikes, with a bewildered stare. "This coat," says the fellow, tapping him upon the arm with his pistol barrel, "and a very passable coat it is--fine velvet, I swear, and as I'm a living sinner, a flowered waistcoat!--come, take 'em off, d'ye hear?" Very slowly, Sir Harry obeyed, swearing frightfully, while the fellow, sitting upon the parapet of the bridge, swung his legs and watched him. "Humph!" says he, as if to himself, "buckskin breeches, and boots brand new--burn me!" and then suddenly in a louder tone: "Off with them!" "What d'ye mean?" snarled Raikes, and his face was murderous. "What I says," returned the other, with a flourish of his pistols, "such being my natur', d'ye take me? And if the gentleman in the muddy hat moves a finger nearer his barkers, I'll blow his head off--curse me if I won't." Saying which the highwayman began to whistle softly, swinging his legs in time to himself. As for the Captain, the hand which had crept furtively towards his pistols dropped as if it had been shot, and he sat watching the fellow with staring eyes. And indeed he made a strange, fantastic figure sitting there hunched up in the fading light, with the quick gleam of his ever restless eyes showing through the slits of his hideous half-mask, and the pout of his whistling lips beneath; nay, there was about the whole figure, from the rusty spurs at his heels to the crown of his battered hat, something almost devilish, with an indefinable mockery beyond words. "Bentley," I whispered, as Raikes slowly kicked off his boots one after the other, "this fellow's a madman beyond a doubt, or we are dreaming." Bentley's reply was something betwixt a groan and a choke, and looking round, I saw that his face was purple. "Man, don't do that," I cried, "you'll burst a blood-vessel!" "Come," says the fellow, breaking off his whistle of a sudden, and turning over the garments at his feet with the toe of his boot, "you wouldn't go for to cheat me out of your breeches, would you? Come now, master, off with 'em, I say, for look ye, I mislike to be kept waiting for a thing as I wants--such being my natur', d'ye take me?" Sir Harry Raikes stood rigid, his face dead white--only his burning eyes and twitching mouth told of the baffled fury that was beyond all words. Twice he essayed to speak and could not--once he turned to look at us with an expression of such hopeless misery and mute appeal as moved even me to pity. As for the highwayman, he began to whistle and swing his legs once more. "Bentley," says I, "this must go no farther." "What can we do?" gasped Bentley, and laid his heavy hand upon my arm. "Come," says the fellow again, rising to his feet. "No," cries Raikes, in a choking voice, "not for all the devils in hell!"