Then there was a sharp rap at
the door.
"Who's there?" cried Grinsell gruffly.
"Open the door instantly," said a loud, masterful voice.
Burke looked aghast.
"You can't let him in," he whispered.
The others exchanged glances.
"Open the door," cried the voice again. "D'you hear, Grinsell? At
once!--or I ride to Drayton for the constables."
Grinsell gave Diggle a meaning look.
"Slip out by the back door, Mr. Burke," said the innkeeper. "I'll make a
noise with the bolts so that he cannot hear you."
Burke hastily departed, and Grinsell, after long, loud fumbling with the
bolts, threw open the door and gave admittance to the squire.
"Ah, you are here both," said Sir Willoughby, standing in the middle of
the floor, his riding whip in his hand.
"Now, Mr.--Diggle, I think you call yourself, I'm a man of few words, as
you know. I have to say this, I give you till eight o'clock tomorrow
morning; if you are not gone, bag and baggage, by that time, I will issue
a warrant. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," said Diggle with his enigmatical smile.
"And one word more. Show your face again in these parts and I shall have
you arrested. I have spared you twice for your mother's sake. This is my
last warning.
"Grinsell, you hear that, too?"
"I hear 't," growled the man.
"Remember it, for, mark my words, you'll share his fate."
The squire was gone.
Grinsell scowled with malignant spite; Diggle laughed softly.
"Quanta de spe decidi!" he said, "which in plain English, friend Job,
means that we are dished--utterly, absolutely.
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