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Updated: June 25, 2025
Pemberthy, they would have made a plunge at Sophie Tarne for partner had not the captain, very white and stern now, stood close to her side with a pistol at full cock in his right hand. "I shall shoot the first man down who touches you," he said, between his set teeth. "I will get away from them soon. For heaven's sake for mine do not add to the horror of this night, sir," implored Sophie.
It was an odd supper-party at which Sophie Tarne presided, the highwaymen insisting, with much clamour and some emphatic oaths, that they would have no old women like Mrs. Tarne and Mrs. Pemberthy at the head of the table. Sophie was a pretty wench, and so must do the honours of the feast.
Being a steady, handsome fellow, who made love in downright earnest, he impressed Sophie's eighteen years, and was somewhat timidly but graciously accepted as an affianced suitor. It was thought at King's Norton that Mrs. Tarne had done a better stroke of business in the first year of her widowhood than her late husband had done always an unlucky wretch, Timothy in the whole course of his life.
He raised his hat and bowed low to Sophie Tarne, not offering to shake hands as the rest of them had done who where crowding around her; then he seemed to stand suddenly between them and their salutations, and to brush them unceremoniously aside. "You see to those horses, Stango and Grapp," he said, singling out the most obtrusive and the most black-muzzled of his gang.
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