He did not dismount, and I
took the drink to him myself. There was nothing very noticeable about
him, only that his eyes were sharp and restless, and he held his head a
little sideways as if he were listening. It was the horse that took my
attention rather than the man. It was an animal, sir, you'd not meet the
likes of in a week's journey. When the horse had galloped into the
shadows of the night I said to myself, there goes the highwayman for a
certainty."
"And you've never seen him since?"
"No, nor shall now, since he was hanged lately at Tyburn."
"That was a mistake, landlord. Galloping Hermit is still alive. I have
seen him to-night."
"Alive!"
"Ay, and the horse you describe fits with the animal he was riding."
"I hope your honour was not robbed of much."
"Of nothing, my good friend," laughed Rosmore, "except of the
satisfaction of laying him by the heels."
"Still alive, is he?" said the landlord. "I cannot credit it. Maybe 'tis
someone else who wears the brown mask now, and trades on the other's
fame."
"It is not likely, and if it is so he must suffer for the other's sins,"
said Rosmore; but the idea lingered with him as he rode away from the
inn, followed by Watson and Sayers.
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