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Chapter Eleven

ALFRED SPEENHAM GLANCED down his narrow nose and found that his pewter of ale was nearly ealley of the Cock Pit with a show of ennui

There was no one worth conversing with and no sport to be had, except the wench washing down the oak tables He’d had her many times and she certainly was a lively one in bed He smiled as he called out to her

“Coh “Can’t you see I’”

“Go on wit ye, darlin’ ht and I have got to do double ave hi ill happen later when no one is lookin’”

The tavernkeeper stepped out and pointed at her, “Here now, Dee…cook needs ye” He glanced between her and Alfred but said nothing more as he turned away

Speenham called Bailey, the innkeeper back, “Eh,up here”

Bailey eyed Speenham speculatively for a moment before he answered, “Do they say so? Don’t know of any runner Have but the one guest this week, a Mr Fowler and he don’t call ‘imself a runner”

Alfred shrugged He knew the tavernkeeper liked Ned and didn’t like him He had always known that Fact was that most of the locals had always liked the Sherborne twins There was no understanding that, but he pursued “So then, you don’t think this Fowler person has coate to search out my cousins?”

“I don’t know naught about it ‘Ceptin the young lord did no irl than he would his own sister!” snapped the tavernkeeper

“There are those who think he did,” returned Alfred carefully, playing with his fork and notthe tavernkeeper’s eyes

“And there’s more that know otherwise,” retorted the man sharply

This conversation was doomed to failure It was at that moment interrupted as a shadow filled the tavern entrance and Speenhaure

standing in its large opening

“Your Grace,” Alfred hailed with a welcoh pleased to exhibit a friendship with such an iure