'By your leave, Sir George,' he said diffidently. 'But the young lady

you were inquiring for? Might I ask--?' He paused as if he feared to give offence. Sir George laid down his

knife and fork and looked at him. Mr. Dunborough did the same. 'Yes,

yes, man,' Soane said. 'Have you heard anything? Out with it!' 'Well, sir, it is only--I was going to ask if her father lived in these

parts.' 'Her father?' 'Yes, sir.' Mr. Dunborough burst into rude laughter. 'Oh, Lord!' he said. 'Are we

grown so proper of a sudden? Her father, damme!' Sir George shot a glance of disdain at him. Then, 'My good fellow,' he

said to the host, 'her father has been dead these fifteen years.' The landlord reddened, annoyed by the way Mr. Dunborough had taken him.

'The gentleman mistakes me, Sir George,' he said stiffly. 'I did not ask

out of curiosity, as you, who know me, can guess; but to be plain, your

honour, there are two gentlemen below stairs, just come in; and what

beats me, though I did not tell them so, they are also in search of a

young lady.' 'Indeed?' Sir George answered, looking gravely at him. 'Probably they

are from the Castle Inn at Marlborough, and are inquiring for the lady

we are seeking.' 'So I should have thought,' the landlord answered, nodding sagely; 'but

one of the gentlemen says he is her father, and the other--' Sir George stared. 'Yes?' he said, 'What of the other?' 'Is Mr. Pomeroy of Bastwick,' the host replied, lowering his voice.

'Doubtless your honour knows him?' 'By name.' 'He has naught to do with the young lady?' 'Nothing in the world.' 'I ask because--well, I don't like to speak ill of the quality, or of

those by whom one lives, Sir George; but he has not got the best name

in the county; and there have been wild doings at Bastwick of late, and

writs and bailiffs and worse. So I did not up and tell him all I knew.' On a sudden Dunborough spoke. 'He was at College, at Pembroke,' he said.

'Doyley knows him. He'd know Tommy too; and we know Tommy is with the

girl, and that they were both dropped Laycock way. Hang me, if I don't

think there is something in this!' he continued, thrusting his feet into

slippers: his boots were drying on the hearth. 'Thomasson is rogue

enough for anything! See here, man,' he went on, rising and flinging

down his napkin; 'do you go down and draw them into the hall, so that I

can hear their voices. And I will come to the head of the stairs. Where

is Bastwick?' 'Between here and Melksham, but a bit off the road, sir.' 'It would not be far from Laycock?' 'No, your honour; I should think it would be within two or three miles

of it. They are both on the flat the other side of the river.' 'Go down! go down!' Mr. Dunborough answered. 'And pump him, man! Set him

talking. I believe we have run the old fox to earth. It will be our

fault if we don't find the vixen!'




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