H. B. Marriott Watson

“ But, Devil or not, Timothy Grubbe was not a name to frighten me, nor was I to be lectured by a sot like Old Irons. And so I told him roundly; and then while we were drinking at the "Bull's Head," who should come up but the man himself. He stepped forward to us smartly, as though we were the particular game he was after, and, "Ho! Ho! Dick Ryder," says he, with his sickly grin, "and there's sport ahead, is there Dick? Pretty yellow coins to fill your pockets, eh? So, so, Dick; and you look full-spunked for business. ”

“ I knew well enough who it was, for Timothy Grubbe was not the man to leave himself touched with suspicions, and I had already fathomed his cunning purpose; which, indeed, was why I had forestalled him. His worship went to the door, and presently I heard voices in the hall, the one of which I distinguished easily enough. And after a little, as I sat sipping my wine, the Justice came back, looking very perplexed. "Why, what is this?" he says. "Here is a fellow that brings a tale as like your own as may be, save that 'tis he is the hero." ”

“ And I suppose 'twas not Timothy as came wheedling of me with his rat's eyes, and clapping me on the back for a lord, and thrusting forth his tongue at the sight of guineas that a man of heart might take in a night an' he used his weapons briskly. Bah!" says Old Irons, "I trust no thief-catcher, nor no go-between, not till I pull my locks at the topsman." And this was true enough about Timothy Grubbe, as every man of us knew very well. There was many as owed the Jug and the Tree to that mealy-mouthed scoundrel, with his red eyes and his complacent grin. ”

“ Stab us all, Dan, but we're more than the match of King James's scum."
"There's sense," says I, well enough pleased, "and there's spunk too; and the sooner you come by your own again, the better for us all, Dan."
"You'll have your belly full soon enough, young fellow," says Dan with a sneer, turning to Zacchary. "'tis not the cock that crows the loudest as uses his spurs best. And as for you, Dick Ryder, you know I'm no white liver, and I'll trouble you to take back those words." ”

“ Old Irons was as black a rogue as you may conjecture, being bred up from a lad for cutpurse and wheedler, and entertaining any business as would fetch him in a guinea to buy a bottle on. Out of his drink he was as cunning as he was savage, but in wine you would not match his bravadoes in Hell. And, by a curious chance, it was this very man that directed me to the folly of the adventure when it fell too late.
'Twas Creech as had the information to start with, and took it from no less a person than Timothy Grubbe himself. ”

“ But when he had mounted the box again and drove off, no doubt in high glee, I'll take oath, weapon or no weapon, that I would have climbed over the roof and choked him from behind if I had had the free use of my limbs. Old Irons was right, and to be mixed up with a stinkard like that was a piece of folly for a boy. Why, it was for us dolts to settle the escort, while he sat comfortable in his hole, and never so much as showing a face in the fight. And when that was done, it was a pistol through the window for Zacchary and Creech and me, and the yellow-boys for him. ”

“ I cried, feigning an excitement; "take him, your worship. 'Tis he, don't let him escape." "Why, what's amiss?" he says, surprised. "'Tis the man himself," I said. "Your prisoner?" he asked. I nodded. "Oh, my Lord," says the Justice, rubbing his hands, "this is fine news. He has given himself into our hands. You shall see him, you shall face him, and identify him"; and he chuckled. I chuckled, too. "Why, yes," I says, "I'll warrant I'll face him." With that, out pops the Justice, and soon after returns with Timothy Grubbe, sure enough, on his heels. ”

“ A fine young gentleman, Captain Irons, and a fine clean job he made nigh Petersfield last week; and a fine entertainment, too, he will make some day upon Tyburn Tree, with the Ordinary a praying over him, and his heels a kicking in the air! 'Twill be a better sight than you will afford, Captain Irons, for all the little matter at Bedford, and Colonel Truscott's jade, that died a natural death, in course, last seventh of August. Why," says he, "I have known gentlemen of this kidney now for twenty years, and I'll warrant I never put eyes upon a braver figure than Dick Ryder. ”

“ But already I was regretting my piece of sport; not that I cared two pinches for the simpletons; but 'tis a wise tongue that keeps the habit of silence. So making them my adieux, which, on their part, were very respectful, I left the tavern and rode back to our rendezvous at the "Joiners' Arms" in the little village of Lewisham. There I found Creech in a black mood, but Zacchary bubbling with excitement.
"We're on a lunatic job, and we're a pack of fools; that's what we are," says Creech with an oath; and with that I knew that he, too, had been talking with Old Irons. ”

“ I brought my fist down upon the bench with a thump. "Does any man tell me," I cried, "that I'm not the match of a dozen snarling rascals such as may chance to pounce upon his Majesty's coach this side of Chatham?"
"What!" said the chandler, starting. "Is there an escort to Chatham to-night?"
"Rot me," says I, feigning to stare at him stupidly. "Whose wits are wool-gathering that you gabble about Chatham? I know what I know," I says, "and I can hold my tongue with any man." "Yes, yes," says the innkeeper, soothingly. "Indeed, sir, 'tis so. ”

“ I says, "my tongue wags."
"We'll ha' some more wine," says the chandler after a moment, and with extreme friendliness.
"Well," said I, for the whim ran into my head on the moment to set their fat eyes a-goggling, "if it be another glass, why I will not say no; but upon that limit I stop. D'ye understand? I stop," I said, bringing my foot with the stamp on the floor. "His Majesty's business can ill afford to wait upon any man's thirst."
"His Majesty's business!" cried the fat chandler, exchanging a glance with the innkeeper, and opening his eyes. ”

“ I said, "and where the Hell d'ye suppose you'll be finding your game by this?"
"Oh," says Creech with a sneer, "they're abiding from Zacchary Mills, that's what they are. They're all afraid of him and his barkers. They know his stomach for blood, they do. We ain't to do nothing, Dick Ryder, but to set down upon our haunches and see 'em put up their hands and cry for mercy to this fire-eater here."
"Hold your tongue, Dan," said I angrily, for I could see Zacchary's eyes gleaming. "Wait till we are finished with the job and then, if you come out clear, you can settle your jealousies together. ”

“ He said it so firmly, and with such an appearance of authority, that his worship looked staggered, and said nothing. But it was time for me to put in my tongue, if I was to keep my post. "Ah!" says I, very sarcastic, "and 'tis a brave bold tongue you ply for an audacious cut-throat. You have it all pat, as one would say. And perhaps you could swear to 'em in a court of justice; no one better. And I suppose, my fine fellow, 'tis me that's this same Dick Ryder, and 'tis you as had charge of his Majesty's treasure."
Timothy Grubbe looked at me, with lowered brows, out of his little red eyes. ”

“ I started, and regarded him in an amaze. "Why," says I, "all was killed but me and the prisoner, and that I'll swear." We stared at each other. "What like-of a man?" I asked, in a low voice. "Why, a small fellow," says he, "with his head to one side." ”

“ Must you be putting words between a gentleman's teeth?" "No, no," says the fat chandler hastily, "'twas my mistake," and signed to the landlord to bring another bottle. When it was come he filled the glasses and put one to his lips. "Well," he says, smiling at me amiably, "Here's to the success of any business you may have in hand, friend; and I'm sure 'tis of importance."
"Ah!" says I, after a draught, and shaking my head, sagely, "You may say that. Why, if 'twere not for me that stands here His Majesty might be ten thousand guineas the poorer this night." ”

“ The coach was bound for Chatham with the kegs of his Majesty's guineas for the ships in that port, and first I must post down the road early in the afternoon to determine a position for our ambuscade. I reckoned to come up with the escort over Shooter's Hill, some miles this side of Dartford; and having marked the spot and laid out a rude plan, I rode on then to Dartford itself, where I pulled up at the "Pigeons" for a pint of wine. ”