“It is impossible for me to turn the paper over to you now,” he answered quietly.
“What!” Pennington sprang up, his high, narrow forehead flushing. “Then who has?”
“I think,” said the boy, “that it is in the hands of one who will make good use of it.”
Consternation was written deeply in the face of Master Pennington; he had raised a clenched hand, an exclamation trembled upon his lips when the landlord rushed into the room amid a great clatter of pans and kettles. He was pale of face and affrighted of manner; and close at his heels, with his drawn sword in his hand, strode the adventurer, Gilbert Scarlett.
EZRA MAKES UP HIS MIND TO A DANGEROUS VENTURE
The surly landlord of the “Indian’s Head” danced into the centre of his public room, the expression of fear expanding upon his face.
“Gentlemen,” he cried, appealing to Ezra and Pennington, “I demand your protection. I am beset by this man, who would kill me in my own house.”
“If you prefer to have it so,” spoke Scarlett with a swishing whir of his heavy blade, “I will dispatch you upon the lawn if you are possessed of one, or, in default of that, in the public road. I am of a liberal nature, and would as well please you as not in the place of your taking off.”
His agile point followed the churlish landlord in his caperings.
“Sir,” cried the man, addressing himself to Pennington, “I crave you to speak a word to this mad villain, who seems bound to spill my blood.”
Pennington arose and was about to remonstrate with the young soldier; but the latter stopped before he had well begun.
“Have the goodness to keep your place,” requested Scarlett, with a quick, fierce, unmistakable look. “There are some things, perhaps, that I can be crossed in,” here the look grew significant, “and made to appear cheap. But be assured, sir, that this is not one of them.”
At once Pennington sank back upon the settle and again the landlord resumed his capering before the swift-moving sword point.
“Now, rascal,” cried Scarlett, harshly, “will you do as I ask? Faith, I’m playing you easily enough; in Muscovy they’d have had your life for half this show of stubbornness.”
“I tell you I know no such gentleman,” cried the landlord. “How can I tell that which I know not?”