In which
sincere hope I rest ever your grateful, loving
PEREGRINE.
P.S. I shall write you of my further adventures from time to time.
I was in the act of folding my epistle when I started, for above the
lash of rain and buffeting wind, it seemed that some one was hailing
from the road. Presently, as I listened, I heard a mutter of rough
voices without, a tramp of feet, and the door swung suddenly open to
admit two men, or rather three, for between them they dragged one, a
short, squat fellow in riding boots and horseman's coat, but all so
torn and bedraggled, so foul of blood and mire, as to seem scarce
human. His hat was gone and his long, rain-soaked hair clung in black
tangles about his bruised face and as he stood, swaying in his bonds,
I thought him the very figure of misery.
"House!" roared one of his captors. "House--ho!" In response the
landlady entered, followed by her sullen spouse (somewhat sobered by
his late ablutions) and the man Vokes.
"Lor'!" exclaimed the landlord, plump fists on plump hips and eyeing
the newcomers very much askance. "An' what might all this be?"
"Thieves, missus--a murderin' 'ighwayman--Galloping Jerry 'isself--a
bloody rogue--"
"'E looks it!" nodded the landlady. "Bleedin' all over my clean
kitchen, 'e be. Take 'im out t' barn--"
"Not us, ma'm, not us--'e's nigh give us the slip once a'ready, dang
'im!" Saying which, the speaker kicked the poor wretch so that he
would have fallen but for the wall, whereupon the man Vokes laughed
and nodded.
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