“Upon my conscience, Mr. Coates,” cried Titus, “it’s either the devil, or Sir Piers. We’ll be only in the way here. He’s only just settling his old scores with his lady. I thought it would come to this long ago. We’d best beat a retreat.”
Jack took advantage of this momentary confusion created by this incidental alarm at his disguise to direct Rust towards the door by which the newcomers had entered; and, this being accomplished, he burst into a loud laugh.
“What! not know me?” cried he—”not know your old friend with a new face, Luke? Nor you, Titus? Nor you, who can see through a millstone, lawyer Coates, don’t you recognise—”
“Jack Palmer, as I’m a sinner!” cried Titus. “Why this beats Banaghan. Arrah! Jack, honey, what does this mean? Is it yourself I see in such company? You’re not robbing in earnest?”
“Indeed but I am, friend Titus,” exclaimed Jack; “and it is my own self you see. I just took the liberty of borrowing Sir Piers’s old hunting-coat from the justice-room. You said my toggery wouldn’t do for the funeral. I’m no other than plain Jack Palmer, after all.”
“With half-a-dozen aliases at your back, I dare say,” cried Coates. “I suspected you all along. All your praise of highwaymen was not lost upon me. No, no; I can see into a millstone, be it ever so thick.”
“Well,” replied Jack, “I’m sorry to see you here, friend Titus. Keep quiet, and you shall come to no harm. As to you, Luke Bradley, you have anticipated my intention by half an hour; I meant to set you free. For you, Mr. Coates, you may commit all future care of your affairs to your executors, administrators, and assigns. You will have no further need to trouble yourself with worldly concerns,” added he, levelling a pistol at the attorney, who, however, shielded himself, in an agony of apprehension, behind Luke’s person. “Stand aside, Luke.”
“I stir not,” replied Luke. “I thank you for your good intention, and will not injure you—that is, if you do not force me to do so. I am here to defend her ladyship.”
“What’s that you say?” returned Jack, in surprise—”defend her ladyship?”
“With my life,” replied Luke. “Let me counsel you to depart.”
“Are you mad? Defend her!—Lady Rookwood—your enemy—who would hang you? Tut, tut! Stand aside, I say, Luke Bradley, or look to yourself.”
“You had better consider well ere you proceed,” said Luke. “You know me of old. I have taken odds as great, and not come off the vanquished.”
“The odds are even,” cried Titus, “if Mr. Coates will but show fight. I’ll stand by you to the last, my dear joy. You’re the right son of your father, though on the wrong side. Och! Jack Palmer, my jewel, no wonder you resemble Dick Turpin.”
“You hear this?” cried Luke.
“Hot-headed fool!” muttered Jack.
“Why don’t you shoot him on the spot?” said Wilder.
“And mar my own chance,” thought Jack. “No, that will never do; his life is not to be thrown away. Be quiet,” said he, in a whisper to Wilder; “I’ve another card to play, which shall serve us better than all the plunder here. No harm must come to that youngster; his life is worth thousands to us.” Then, turning to Luke, he continued, “I’m loth to hurt you; yet what can I do? You must have the worst of it if we come to a pitched battle. I therefore advise you, as a friend, to draw off your forces. We are three to three, it is true; but two of your party are unarmed.”
“Unarmed!” interrupted Titus. “Devil burn me! this iron shillelah shall convince you to the contrary, Jack, or any of your friends.”
“Make ready then, my lads,” cried Palmer.
“Stop a minute,” exclaimed Coates; “this gets serious; it will end in homicide—in murder. We shall all have our throats cut to a certainty; and though these rascals will as certainly be hanged for it, that will be poor satisfaction to the sufferers. Had we not better refer the matter to arbitration?”
“I’m fighting it out,” said Titus, whisking the poker round his head, like a flail in action. “My blood’s up. Come on, Jack Palmer, I’m for you.”
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