Flaming Tinman."

"What, then, are you afraid of?"

"The evil one."

"The evil one!" said the girl; "where is he?"

"Coming upon me."

"Never heed," said the girl, "I'll stand by you."

CHAPTER LXXXVII

Hubbub of Voices--No Offence--Nodding--The Guests.

The kitchen of the public-house was a large one, and many people were
drinking in it; there was a confused hubbub of voices.

I sat down on a bench behind a deal table, of which there were three or
four in the kitchen; presently a bulky man, in a green coat of the
Newmarket cut, and without a hat, entered, and observing me, came up, and
in rather a gruff tone cried, "Want anything, young fellow?"

"Bring me a jug of ale," said I, "if you are the master, as I suppose you
are, by that same coat of yours, and your having no hat on your head."

"Don't be saucy, young fellow," said the landlord, for such he was;
"don't be saucy, or . . . " Whatever he intended to say he left unsaid,
for fixing his eyes upon one of my hands, which I had placed by chance
upon the table, he became suddenly still.

This was my left hand, which was raw and swollen, from the blows dealt on
a certain hard skull in a recent combat. "What do you mean by staring at
my hand so?" said I, withdrawing it from the table.

"No offence, young man, no offence," said the landlord, in a quite
altered tone; "but the sight of your hand . . . " then observing that our
conversation began to attract the notice of the guests in the kitchen, he
interrupted himself, saying in an undertone, "But mum's the word for the
present, I will go and fetch the ale."

In about a minute he returned, with a jug of ale foaming high. "Here's
your health," said he, blowing off the foam, and drinking; but perceiving
that I looked rather dissatisfied, he murmured, "All's right, I glory in
you; but mum's the word." Then placing the jug on the table, he gave me
a confidential nod, and swaggered out of the room.

What can the silly impertinent fellow mean, thought I; but the ale was
now before me, and I hastened to drink, for my weakness was great, and my
mind was full of dark thoughts, the remains of the indescribable horror
of the preceding night. It may kill me, thought I, as I drank deep--but
who cares? anything is better than what I have suffered. I drank deep,
and then leaned back against the wall: it appeared as if a vapour was
stealing up into my brain, gentle and benign, soothing and stilling the
hor