you would describe the man himself, I will see to the proclamation.”
“Describe him, Chilter!” ordered Mr. Fudby, who was becoming rather grumpy.
Mr. Chilter smiled suddenly.
“Certainly, sir!” he said with alacrity. “’Twas a great ruffianly fellow, monstrous tall———”
“How tall?” interrupted the town-clerk. Six feet?”
“Oh, quite!” lied Mr. Chilter. “And fat.”
Jack’s shoulders shook.
“Fat, you say?” he asked gently.
“Very fat,” affirmed Mr. Chilter. “And prodigious rough, swearing dreadfully in his speech.”
“You could not see his face, I suppose?”
Mr. Chilter hesitated.
“I could see his mouth and chin,” he said, “and I remarked a long scar running from his under-lip to the—er—bottom of his face.”
Involuntarily Carstares’ hand caressed his perfectly smooth chin. Either the little clerk was a born romancer, or for some reason or other he did not want the highwayman to be taken.
“Well, Sir Anthony?” the mayor was saying “Does that description fit your man?”
My lord frowned thoughtfully.
“Tall,” he said slowly, “and fat—you said fat, I think, Mr. Chilter?”
Rather anxiously Mr. Chilter reiterated this statement.
“Ah! And with a long scar—yes, that is undoubtedly he. Furthermore,” he added audaciously, “he has a squint in his left eye. ’Tis a most ill-favoured rogue in all.”
“It would appear so, Sir Anthony," remarked the mayor drily. He did not in the least believe the story of the squint, and imagined that the fine court gentleman was amusing himself at their expense. Nevertheless, he had no intention of remonstrating; the sooner
