"Are we not wasting time?" he protested.
"Not at all: and to prove it, I am about to send you downstairs to
order horses. It is wonderful! I wager the people of the inn shall
not know you. Order a couple of fleet horses to be waiting in an
hour from now: that will give us plenty of time to reach Nieupoort,
and take a night's rest before sailing to-morrow. Here, kick off
those clumsy boots and take mine; also my cloak here, and sword.
Your breeches and stockings will do. Afterwards you can stroll out
into the town, if you will, and purchase a keepsake for Sophia.
I, myself, will buy a ring at Nieupoort for you to fit upon her
pretty finger, if you succeed in tricking the folk below-stairs.
Farewell, my son, and God bless you!--only, be back within the hour."
As the door closed upon Tristram, Captain Salt advanced to the
keyhole and listened.
"A sound skin," he muttered to himself, "is better than a dull son.
Moreover, at the worst he'll be taken back to The Hague, and there
the Earl will keep him from me." He examined his pistols for a
moment, opened the door softly, and, creeping out on the landing,
began to listen with all his ears.
Meanwhile our hero marched downstairs, and, encountering the waitress
in the passage below, gave the order for the horses.
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