“I was that infamous scoundrel. I beg leave once more to apologise for my carelessness in opening that same door. Now tell me, why did you take such pains to throw dust in their sleepy eyes?”
They resumed their walk slowly. The little clerk flushed.
“I scarce know, sir, save that I—that I liked you, and—and———”
“I see. ’Twas prodigious good of you, Mr. Chilter. I wonder if there is anything that I can do to show my gratitude?”
Again the clerk flushed and lifted his head proudly.
“I thank you, sir, but there is nought.”
By now they had reached the stable. Carstares opened the door and they entered.
“Then will you accept this in token of my regard, sir?”
Mr. Chilter gazed at the emerald ring that glowed and winked at him from the palm of my lord’s hand. He looked up into the blue eyes and stammered a little.
“Indeed, sir—I—I———”
“’Tis honestly come by!” pleadingly. “Come, Mr. Chilter, you’ll not hurt my feelings by refusing? You will keep it in remembrance of a man—a fat man, Mr. Chilter—who rudely jerked you on to the road?”
The clerk took it with unsteady fingers.
“I thank you most———”
“Nay, I beg of you. ’Tis I thank you for aiding me so kindly. … Come and see my Jenny! Well, lass?” For the mare at the first sound of his voice had turned in her loose-box, and was whinnying and pawing the ground eagerly.
“I do not understand, sir, anything: how it is that you are a highwayman, or why you have honoured me with your confidence—why you should trust me. But—thank you.”
