"
"Spoken honestly," said Rosmore. "Watson, you will stay here. Savers,
come with me, and you come, too, landlord."
The search was a thorough one, and although Rosmore keenly watched the
landlord he could discover no sign of fear either in his face or
attitude. Watson had nothing to report when they returned to the
tap-room.
"Tell me, landlord, what persons of quality have you in the near
neighbourhood?"
Saunders mentioned several names, amongst them Sir Peter Faulkner.
"Are we near Sir Peter's? That is good hearing. He will give me a
welcome and good cheer."
"You take the road through the village," said Saunders. "It's less than
five miles to Sir Peter's."
"We'll get on our way, then," said Rosmore. Then he turned quickly upon
the landlord. "Do you know Galloping Hermit, the highwayman?"
"Well, by name. A good many have had the misfortune of meeting him on
the West Road yonder. And, to tell the truth, sir, I believe I've seen
him once--and without the brown mask, too."
"When?" Rosmore asked sharply.
"It may be three, perhaps four, months back. A horseman galloped up to
the door, just at dusk, and called for ale.
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