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Updated: May 28, 2025
"I had hoped you thought better of me, Master Wheatman," she said coldly, and went back to her watching. The sergeant heard, or at least understood, what had been said in the room. We heard him say, "You know your job. Fifty guineas for Wheatman, dead or alive. Any man who touches the girl will be flogged bare to the bones." Then we heard him walk off along the corridor.
"Soldiering," he said, "is nine-tenths caution and one-tenth devilment. Yon glavering idiot has long ears to match his long tongue. And now, sir, let me greet you as I should." He seized my hand, shook it warmly, and continued, "A father's thanks, Master Wheatman, for your kindness to my Margaret.
"My father's honour is mine, Master Wheatman, and I am your debtor for another splendid courtesy." "I argue from the flower to the tree. Man's logic, and therefore necessarily imperfect, you would say, but for once I stick to it." I spoke lightly and reminiscently, so as to chase the gloom from her mind, and she was immediately herself again.
"None whatever," he replied. "My Lord Brocton insulted you wantonly and deliberately." "Then, my lord Marquess, I may be wrong, but I think I have the right of choosing the place, the time, and the weapons." "Certainly, Mr. Wheatman," he answered. "Then if I choose to say, 'On the banks of the Susquehanna, ten years hence, with tomahawks, so it must be?"
"Certainly I have been wondering why you were so silent, and looked so ... grave." "Be honest and fear not, Master Wheatman. You were not going to say 'grave." "At the expense of many whippings from old Bloggs, I learned to be precise in the use of words." "I know, hence you were not going to say 'grave." "You will allow me to choose my own words, madam."
As wealth went then, the Marquess of Tiverton was, by his own fault and foolishness, a poorish man, but he was lost in love of her, and he was only one of the many exquisites who were for ever in and out of Master Freake's fine mansion. It did not become a Wheatman of the Hanyards to cringe or be abashed in any company, and with the best of them I kept on terms of ease and intimacy.
The girl is bringing up the tea, and I'm positively dying for a cup and a sit-down. Of course this" turning gaily round on me, standing there like a great gawk, volubly cursing my shirt-sleeves under my breath "is the incomparable Oliver! Charmed to meet you, sir!" I bowed, and Margaret said staidly, "Yes, my lady. This is Master Oliver Wheatman of the Hanyards.
He looked like a man who, after days of doubt, had newly found himself. "We've got him!" cried Charles gleefully as the door closed behind him. "Now, gentlemen, I crave your attendance on a progress round the town. Mr. Wheatman, bear our compliments to my Lord Elcho, and bid him call out some score or so of our guards to escort us."
"Master Wheatman, I am not a man of many words, but what I say I stand by. I am your very grateful debtor for a very fine and courageous action. Three to one is long odds, but you won with your brains, sir, as much as by your bravery. Your shout was an excellent device, happily thought on." He held out his hand.
He stowed the bag in his pocket, jumped on his mare, and together we walked our horses to the turnpike, where we halted side by side, our horses' heads to their respective destinations. "Sir," said I, holding out my hand, "I am greatly in your debt. My name is Oliver Wheatman, of the Hanyards, Staffordshire. May I have the pleasure of learning yours?"
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