Some vague intelligence moved the minds of both, and their attention was fixed till the coach rounded a corner and was gone.
The landlord was at Belward's elbow.
"The gentleman on the box-seat be from Ridley Court.

That's Maister Ian Belward, sir." Gaston Belward's eyes half closed, and a sombre look came, giving his face a handsome malice.

He wound his fingers in his horse's mane, and put a foot in the stirrup.
"Who is 'Maister Ian' ?" "Maister Ian be Sir William's eldest, sir.

On'y one that's left, sir.
On'y three to start wi': and one be killed i' battle, and one had trouble wi' his faither and Maister Ian; and he went away and never was heard on again, sir.

That's the end on him." "Oh, that's the end on him, eh, landlord?
And how long ago was that ?" "Becky, lass," called the landlord within the door, "wheniver was it Maister Robert turned his back on the Court--iver so while ago?
Eh, a fine lad that Maister Robert as iver I see!" Fat laborious Becky hobbled out, holding an apple and a knife.