196 A JACOBITE EXILE

“T didn’t mean to kill you,” Charlie said aloud, “much
as you deserve it, and surely as you would have killed me
if I had refused to act as a traitor: I would have broken
your head for you, bet that was all. However, it is as well
as itis. It adds to my chance of getting away, and I have
no doubt there will be many who will rejoice when you are
found to be missing. Now,” he went on, “as your agents
emptied my pockets, it is no robbery to empty yours.
Money will be useful, and so will your horse.”

He stooped over the dead man and took the purse from
his girdle, when suddenly there was a rush of feet, and in
a moment he was seized. The thought flashed through
his mind that he had fallen into the power of his late
guardians, but a glance showed that the men standing
round were strangers.

“Well, comrade, and who are you?” the man who was
evidently the leader asked. “You have saved us some
trouble. We were sleeping a hundred yards or two away
when we heard the horseman, and saw as he passed he
was the Jew of Warsaw, to whom two or three of us owe
our ruin, and it did not need more than a word for us to
agree to wait for him till he came back. We were sur-
prised when we saw you, still more so when the Jew
jumped from his horse and attacked you. We did not
interfere, because if he had got the best of you he might
have jumped on his horse and ridden off, but directly he
fell we ran out, but you were so busy in taking the spoil
that you did not hear us.

“T see the Jew is dead; fell on his own knife. It is
just as well for him, for we should have tied him to a tree
and made a bonfire of him if we had caught him.”

Charlie understood but little of this, but said when the
other finished: “I understand but little Polish.”

“What are you then—a Russian? You do not look like
one.”