The travelling was very bad and the coach on its leather hangings swung about in all directions.

The conversation--if conversation it could be called--consisted of fragmentary ejaculations of mingled pain and annoyance from the old gentleman when his gouty foot was jerked against some part of the coach.
They had not passed over the Green when the clatter of a galloping horse was heard and almost immediately the coach was pulled up.
"Body o' me," cried the old gentleman in dismay.

"What's happened ?" He had an answer in a very few seconds.

A big pistol, its barrel gleaming in the moonlight, was thrust through the coach window and behind the pistol was a masked horseman.
"A thousand apologies for putting your lordship to such inconvenience," growled the highwayman with affected humility.

"I'm sure your lordship has too much sense not to perceive the force of an argument which you will own is entirely on my side." And he advanced the muzzle of the pistol a little nearer the head of the old gentleman and then came an unpleasant click.
"What d'ye want, you scoundrel ?" stammered the victim.
"Nay, a little more politeness, if you please.