“Nay, I beg of you. ’Tis I thank you for aiding me so kindly.⁠ ⁠… Come and see my Jenny! Well, lass?” For the mare at the first sound of his voice had turned in her loose-box, and was whinnying and pawing the ground eagerly.

“I do not understand, sir, anything: how it is that you are a highwayman, or why you have honoured me with your confidence⁠—why you should trust me. But⁠—thank you.”

As he spoke, Mr. Chilter placed his hand in my lord’s, and for the second time in his life, felt the pressure of those firm, kindly fingers.

“Why, your honour! Ye’ve lost your emerald!”

“No, Jim. I gave it away.”

“Ye⁠—ye gave it away, sir?”