drew forth a small ink-bottle, and placing a steel pen in it, handed it to the nobleman, saying, with incomparable sangfroid, "Would you like, my Lord, to try the other pistol? if so, oblige me by a quick aim, as you must see the necessity of despatch. If not, here is the back of a letter, on which you can write the draft."
The traveller was not a man apt to become embarrassed in any thing—save his circumstances; but he certainly felt a little discomposed and confused, as he took the paper, and uttering some broken words, wrote the cheque. The highwayman glanced over it, saw it was writ according to form, and then with a bow of cool respect, returned the watch, and shut the door of the carriage.
Meanwhile the servant had been shivering in front—boxed up in that solitary convenience termed, not euphoniously, a dickey. Him the robber now briefly accosted.
"What have you got about you belonging to your master?"
"Only his pills, your Honour! which I forgot to put in the—"
