"Ay," said he, "I ride to the country in hot haste. I go to Wickben in
Essex, to bring back a thing I once left there."
"'Twas a queer place to leave valuables," said Tom--"a village of
tumble-down thatched cottages. Was't a love-token or a purse of gold?"
Sir John gave his knee a sudden joyous slap, and laughed aloud.
"'Twas a little thing," he replied, "but 'twill bring back fortune--if
I find it--and help me to pay back old scores, which is a thing I like
better." And his grin was so ugly that Tom and his companions glanced
aside at each other, believing that he was full of liquor already, and
ready to pick a quarrel if they continued their talk. This they were
not particularly inclined to, however, and began a game of cards,
leaving him to himself to finish his drink. This he did, quickly
tossing down both brandy and coffee the instant they were brought to
him, and then striding swaggering from the room and mounting his horse,
which waited in the street, and riding clattering off over the stones
at a fierce pace.
"Does he ride for a wager?" said Will Lovell, dealing the cards.
"He rides for some ill purpose, I swear," said Tom Tantillion. "Jack
Oxon never went in haste towards an honest deed; but to play some
devil's trick 'tis but nature to him to go full speed."
But what he rode for they never heard, neither they nor anyone else who
told the story, though 'twas sure that if he went to Wickben he came
back to town for a few hours at least, for there were those who saw him
the next day, but only one there was who spoke with him, and that one
my Lady Dunstanwolde herself.
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