‘There is surely no offence, my friend,’ returned Mr. Archer, as they shook hands across the table; ’for, believe me, my sympathies are quite acquired to you.  This life is an arena where we fight with beasts; and, indeed,’ he added, sighing, ’I sometimes marvel why we go down to it unarmed.’

In the meanwhile a creaking of ungreased axles had been heard descending through the wood; and presently after, the door opened, and the tall ostler entered the kitchen carrying one end of Mr. Archer’s trunk.  The other was carried by an aged beggar man of that district, known and welcome for some twenty miles about under the name of ‘Old Cumberland.’  Each was soon perched upon a settle, with a cup of ale; and the ostler, who valued himself upon his affability, began to entertain the company, still with half an eye on Nance, to whom in gallant terms he expressly dedicated every sip of ale.  First he told of the trouble they had to get his Lordship started in the chaise; and how he had dropped a rouleau of gold on the threshold, and the passage and doorstep had been strewn with guinea-pieces.  At this old Jonathan looked at Mr. Archer.  Next the visitor turned to news of a more thrilling character:  how the down mail had been stopped again near Grantham by three men on horseback—­a white and two bays; how they had handkerchiefs on their faces; how Tom the guard’s blunderbuss missed fire, but he swore he had winged one of them with a pistol; and how they had got clean away with seventy pounds in money, some valuable papers, and a watch or two.

‘Brave! brave!’ cried Jonathan in ecstasy.  ’Seventy pounds!  O, it’s brave!’

‘Well, I don’t see the great bravery,’ observed the ostler, misapprehending him.  ’Three men, and you may call that three to one.  I’ll call it brave when some one stops the mail single-handed; that’s a risk.’

‘And why should they hesitate?’ inquired Mr. Archer.  ’The poor souls who are fallen to such a way of life, pray what have they to lose?  If they get the money, well; but if a ball should put them from their troubles, why, so better.’

‘Well, sir,’ said the ostler, ’I believe you’ll find they won’t agree with you.  They count on a good fling, you see; or who would risk it?—­And here’s my best respects to you, Miss Nance.’

‘And I forgot the part of cowardice,’ resumed Mr. Archer.  ’All men fear.’

‘O, surely not!’ cried Nance.

‘All men,’ reiterated Mr. Archer.

‘Ay, that’s a true word,’ observed Old Cumberland, ’and a thief, anyway, for it’s a coward’s trade.’

‘But these fellows, now,’ said Jonathan, with a curious, appealing manner—­’these fellows with their seventy pounds!  Perhaps, Mr. Archer, they were no true thieves after all, but just people who had been robbed and tried to get their own again.  What was that you said, about all England and the taxes?  One takes, another gives; why, that’s almost fair.  If I’ve been rooked and robbed, and the coat taken off my back, I call it almost fair to take another’s.’