“Oh, sit down and take it coolly,” the stranger replied, laughing. “Don’t stand there gaping like a half-stuck pig. Know you, of course I know you.” “Then, sir, if you do, you know me to be a gentleman—an administrator of justice.” “I know you to be a d—d old thief, the biggest liar, and, at a pinch, the biggest coward in all London,” the stranger replied. “Thief! liar! coward!” gasped Bates, whipping out his sword. “If you are a man, defend yourself.” “If you are not a fool, sit down; you can’t frighten me. I’m too old a bird for that.” This quarrel had now thoroughly aroused Captain Jack’s party, who were noisy and boisterous; but they did not interfere, for they imagined that Bates was more than a match for the stranger. “Draw, I say!” growled Bates, “or I’ll slay ye like a dog! Clear the way, there, comrades; leave this impudent rascal to me.” “Sit down, or I’ll knock your head off!” was the cool reply. Bates, all furious and maddened at the stranger’s calmness, made a fierce lunge at him. The instant he did so, however, the stranger fired a pistol, and knocked the large wart from the tip of Bates’s nose, and next instant gave him such a smack on the jaw as laid that hero sprawling on the floor. Tom Bates was thunderstruck, and sat upon the floor looking at the stranger with eyes of wonderment. His friends were equally astonished, and for a moment it looked as if the whole party were intent on slaying the new comer. “Stand back,” said he, waving them off; “put up your sword. I fear ye not, vagabonds, but listen to me; if one dare approach nearer I’ll scalp him.” There was so much of determination, and an air of superiority about him, that all stood still and looked at him as if transfixed to the spot. “Listen to me, knaves,” said he, eyeing every one of them with a keen look. “How many chief high roads are there leading out of London?” “Thirteen,” Captain Jack answered, after a moment’s thought. “But what has that got to do with us?” “Much more than you imagine. Since you left London, a new gibbet has been erected on each of those thirteen highways, just where they branch off at the cross roads.” “Well!” said all in a breath, “and what of that? I don’t understand what all of this means.” “But _I_ do! It means this: those gibbets have been raised at the sole expense of a particular friend of yours.” “For whom?” “For each of you.” “And who is this very particular, very dear, friend of ourn?” growled Faulkner. “I am he!” said the stranger. The rascals were tongue-tied at the stranger’s boldness as he went on. “You came to conduct Bob Bertram to London?” “We did! who could have told you?” “Who told me that each of you went plundering on the way, and divided the booty just now?” “Ha!” said Captain Jack; “watched, betrayed!” “Silence,” said the stranger; “if you do not wish to be gibbeted before your time. This youth is accused of murder, but he did it not. He is not in Darlington gaol.” “Not in gaol?”