ooms or in the
coffee-rooms of village inns. At "The Fisherman's Rest" everyone knew
him--for he was fond of a trip across to France, and always spent a
night under worthy Mr. Jellyband's roof on his way there or back.

He nodded to Waite, Pitkin and the others as he at last released Sally's
waist, and crossed over to the hearth to warm and dry himself: as he did
so, he cast a quick, somewhat suspicious glance at the two strangers,
who had quietly resumed their game of dominoes, and for a moment a look
of deep earnestness, even of anxiety, clouded his jovial young face.

But only for a moment; the next he turned to Mr. Hempseed, who was
respectfully touching his forelock.

"Well, Mr. Hempseed, and how is the fruit?"

"Badly, my lord, badly," replied Mr. Hempseed, dolefully, "but what
can you 'xpect with this 'ere government favourin' them rascals over in
France, who would murder their king and all their nobility."

"Odd's life!" retorted Lord Antony; "so they would, honest Hempseed,--at
least those they can get hold of, worse luck! But we have got some
friends coming here to-night, who at any rate have evaded their
clutches."

It almost seemed, when the young man said these words, as if he threw a
defiant look towards the quiet strangers in the corner.

"Thanks to you, my lord, and to your friends, so I've heard it said,"
said Mr. Jellyband.

But in a moment Lord Antony's hand fell warningly on mine host's arm.

"Hush!" he said peremptorily, and instinctively once again looked
towards the strangers.

"Oh! Lud love you, they are all right, my lord," retorted Jellyband;
"don't you be afraid. I wouldn't have spoken, only I knew we were among
friends. That gentleman over there is as true and loyal a subject of
King George as you are yourself, my lord saving your presence. He is
but lately arrived in Dover, and is setting down in business in these
parts."

"In business? Faith, then, it must be as an undertaker, for I vow I
never beheld a more rueful countenance."

"Nay, my lord, I believe that the gentleman is a widower, which no doubt
would account for the melancholy of his bearing--but he is a friend,
nevertheless, I'll vouch for that-and you will own, my lord, that who
should judge of a face better than the landlord of a popular inn--"

"Oh, that's all right, then, if we are among friends," said Lord Antony,
who evidently did not care to discuss the subject with his host. "But,
tell me, you have no one els