“Ingeniously argued,” said he. “So I am the highwayman? Well, I call upon you to stand and deliver.” “Indeed, sir, I have nothing worth your consideration.” “Pardon me. Your sudden flight thitherwards, at the moment you imagined me established and occupied in London, is a matter very well worth my consideration.” “You are mistaken. How could I know of your presence in London? You will observe I make no pretence of ignorance as to your identity.” “That is modest of you.” He gave no further answer; but he set to and whistled an air from the opera, “What a Blunder.” “Now, Mr. Brander,” he said, “you have taken time by the forelock, but I have taken him by the nose; so you may e’en go back the way you came, and inform your graceful associates that the master of ‘Delsrop’ is returned to his own.” He spoke with a very engaging _sang-froid_; but he was prepared for contingencies. To his surprise the other, after eying him for some moments in a manner of puzzled speculation, shrugged up his shoulders and broke into a gobble of laughter. “Come,” said the thief, “I will be honest with you, for all the _marchand forain_ I am.” “A scholar?” said Tuke. “Then you have two weapons to my one. We must stand on even terms before I consent.” “Bah!” exclaimed the respectable merchant; and, turning his back, he fetched a pistol out of either side-pocket and fired each in turn at the dangling chains of the gallows. Both bullets struck home with a clank; the horses, twenty yards away, started and reared, and the rogue, repouching the smoking barrels, slewed himself about once more. “Does that satisfy you?” he said. “Now my only weapon is my tongue.” “It shall carry further than a bullet with me, though I won’t swear it shall speed as true. You have a very pretty aim, Mr. Brander.” “I learnt to hit a mark when I was a schoolmaster,” said the other dryly. “A settled fly is a fair test of skill. Well, sir, may I crave a confident word with you?” “The post-boy is out of ear-shot, I think.” “I thank you, and I premise that this little expedition is of my sole conception and at my own cost, and that the associates of whom you spoke know nothing of it.” “I see. You would have stolen a march on them?” “Precisely; and, if possible, secure for myself alone the booty that all desire to share.” “You are candour itself.” “I read in it my better policy. Believe me, necessity is my foster-mother and her vile children are my comrades. Once I was blameless, though a schoolmaster. The birch-rod was my business, the fishing-rod my recreation, a passion for Elzivirs my ruin. I stole to allay it--a crime as white as the theft of bread to a starving man. The law took cognizance, grudging me all but my dry bones of syntax. I have suffered, but I am no more vicious now than then. I desire no gauds or vanities, but means only to the satisfying of this scholarly craving for books.”