But do you know, Sir Tammas, why he changed his
name to Crackenfudge?"

Sir Thomas's face at this moment, had grown frightful. While the
landlord was speaking, the baronet, attracted by the noise of a carriage
passing, turned to observe it, just at the moment when his daughter was
bowing so significantly to the stranger in the window over them, as
we have before stated. Here was a new light thrown upon the mystery or
mysteries by which he felt himself surrounded on all hands. The strange
guest in the Mitre inn, was then, beyond question, the very individual
alluded to in the anonymous letter. The baronet's face had, in the
scowl of wrath, got black, as mine host was speaking. This expression,
however, gradually diminished in the darkness of that wrathful shadow
which lay over it. After a severe internal struggle with his tremendous
passions, he at length seemed to cool down. His face became totally
changed; and in a few minutes of silence and struggle, it passed from
the blackness of almost ungovernable rage to a pallid hue, that might
not most aptly be compared to the summit of a volcano covered with snow,
when about to project its most awful and formidable eruptions.

The landlord, while putting the question to the baronet, turned his
sharp, piercing eyes upon him, and, at a single glance, perceived that
something had unusually moved him.

"Sir Tammas," said he, "there is no use in denyin' it, now--the blood's
disturbed in you."

"Give your guest my compliments--Sir Thomas Gourlay's compliments--and I
should feel obliged by a short interview."

On going up, Jack found the stranger and Fenton as we have already
described them--"Sir," said he, addressing the former--"there's a
gentleman below who wishes to know who you ir."

"Who I am!" returned the other, quite unmoved; "and, pray who may he
be?"

"Sir Tammas Gourlay; an' all tell you what, if you don't wish to see
him, why don't see him. A 'll take him the message, an' if there's
anything about you that you don't wish to be known or heard, make
him keep his distance. He's this minute in a de'il of a passion about
something, an' was comin' up as if he'd ait you without salt, but a'
would n't allow it; so, if you don't wish to see him, am the boy won't
be afeard to say so. He's not coming as a friend, a' can tell you."

"Sir Thomas Gourlay's in the house, then," said the stranger, with a
good deal of surprise. He then paused for some time, and, during this
pau