With a gravity that was in itself ridiculous, the pair shook hands; while my lady, in tones of extreme impatience, demanded "how much longer they were to remain on the open down, and what was to be done next?"
Again there was a whispered consultation among the gipsies, and again Waif was called into council. Fin Cooper then addressed his prisoners with a calm dignity, such as Lord Bellinger had many times seen attempted unsuccessfully in the legislative chamber to which he belonged.
"My lord," said he, "and especially my lady, it gives me great uneasiness that I should be obliged to cause you inconvenience. My brothers, however, will not hear of your being released till they have gained two hours' start. By that time," he added, looking up at the stars, "it will be nearly eleven o'clock. You will find a good inn, not three miles from this spot, where I will take care that beds and supper are prepared. You will, I hope, be comfortably lodged before midnight. In the meantime, it will be necessary to secure your acquiescence by binding you hand and foot. Excuse the liberty, my lord and my lady, it is but for a couple of hours."
"And who is to unbind us when eleven o'clock strikes?" asked her ladyship, in tones of exceeding disquiet.
"Unless you leave somebody on purpose!" added Mistress Rachel, with a titter.
"I don't see the necessity," observed my lord, tapping his snuff-box; "you have trusted my honour once to-night, why not put me on my _parole_ again?"
Fin Cooper pondered. It seemed a good jest enough to leave the party he had captured huddled together on the open down, tied hand and foot, as it were, in imaginary fetters by Lord Bellinger's word of honour alone; but how if his lordship, treating the whole affair also as a jest, should turn the tables, and proceed to raise the country in pursuit directly his captors had withdrawn? On whose side would the laugh be then?
It speaks well, both for gipsy and nobleman, that Fin's hesitation was of no long continuance.
"I think the Gorgio means fair," he whispered to Waif, "for all he wears a clean shirt on his back. Am I a fool to trust him, my sister, or is he fool enough to respect my trust? We could hardly, without hurting them, tie them up so tight but that they might release one another in the space of two hours; and this job will look quite black enough as it stands, without cruelty. It's highway robbery, Thyra, and, I fear, something like what the Gorgios call high treason to boot! You are wise, my sister, and know these Gentiles well; counsel me what to do."