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"Then, seeing that Colonel Waynflete cannot at the moment give himself the pleasure of slitting your ruffian's throat, you may speak on," was the reply. "You and your daughter may proceed on your way unharmed if you surrender. It's only Wheatman the farmer, now with you, that I want."
"We are the Chartleys of Chartley Towers. We go back to Edward the Third." Did ever man enjoy such fat luck as mine? I had been as hard beset as a nut in the nutcrackers. To prove that I was not Swift Nicks I should have to prove that I was Oliver Wheatman.
"Ha, Master Wheatman of the Hanyards," there was a sneer in his voice, "it is well I see thee on the right side, or, by gad and His Gracious Majesty, we'd have that other five hundred acres of yours." He tossed off a bumper of wine and added, "Or a solatium, Master Wheatman, a solatium." I caught Jack's eye as I stepped right into the middle of the group.
Dear, brave Cherry-Cheeks sent it home by the hands of a vagrom pedlar, laboriously and exactly writing on the package the inscription she found on the fly leaf: OLIVER WHEATMAN, Esquire, of the Hanyards, Staffordshire, Aetatis anno 13 I routed out ostlers, and by dint of a judicious blend of cursings and bribings had the horses ready under the archway in time.
Certainly it was a chastened Oliver Wheatman who placed a chair for her when she came in again for breakfast, and helped her to the good things a kindly fortune had provided. It is my belief that each of us was secretly amused at the steady zeal with which the other attacked the meal.
I spoke quietly but crisply, for I would not be girded at unjustly, no, not by a prince. He took my meaning, and answered generously, "As I knew you would, Master Wheatman, if need were." The noble panelled room in which we were was set out with a long table and many chairs. At the head of the table a mean-looking man was busily writing.
I wasn't clear last night, but Master Wheatman has decided me. I ride into London in Highland dress." "I applaud the decision of Your Royal Highness," said the foxy secretary. "It is a merited compliment to your brave clansmen." He afterwards ratted and so helped to hang some of the best of them. "Now for your dispatch to the Marquis," said Charles, going towards the secretary's papers.
"Master Wheatman," he began, "I call upon you in the King's name to aid and assist me. This woman's tale is all a lie. The mug was on the chimney-top for anyone to see, and I only took it down to examine it, being struck with its appearance." "Also in the King's name, Master Sergeant," was my reply, "I propose to have you handed over to the nearest justice as a rogue and vagabond."
My days were all twins to each other. Every morning, after breakfast, I went abroad and always the same way: past the quaint Town House, down King Street, and so on to the Long Wharf to see if a ship had come in from England, and to ask the captain thereof if he had brought a letter for one Oliver Wheatman at Mr. Peter Faneuil's. I got no letter and no news.
And this led me on to my pride of ancestry, and I told her of Captain Smite-and-spare-not Wheatman, a tower of strength to the Parliament in these parts, who fought here and later on Naseby Field itself.
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