Page 297 - A Jacobite Exile

"It is a quiet-looking little place," Charlie said, "and does but a small trade,
I should say. However, no doubt they can give us some bread and cheese,

and a mug of ale, which will last us well enough till we get back to Barnet."

The landlord placed what they demanded before them, and then left the
room again, replying by a short word or two to their remarks on the
weather.

"A surly ill-conditioned sort of fellow," Harry said.

"It may be, Harry, that badness of trade has spoiled his temper. However,
so long as his beer is good, it matters little about his mood."

They had finished their bread and cheese, and were sitting idly, being in no

hurry to start on their way back, when a man on horseback turned off from
the road and came up the narrow lane in which the house stood. As Charlie,
who was facing that way, looked at him he started, and grasped Harry's

arm.

"It is our man," he said. "It is Nicholson himself! To think of our searching
all London, these weeks past, and stumbling upon him here."

The man stopped at the door, which was at once opened by the landlord.

"All right, I suppose, landlord?" the man said, as he swung himself from his
horse.

"There is no one here except two young fellows, who look to me as if they
had spent their last penny in London, and were travelling down home

again."

He spoke in a lowered voice, but the words came plainly enough to the ears

of the listeners within. Another word or two was spoken, and then the
landlord took the horse and led it round to a stable behind, while its rider

entered the room. He stopped for a moment at the open door of the
taproom, and stared at the two young men, who had just put on their hats