estmacott's evening habits--had been waiting for the past half-hour
in that doorway hoping that Mr. Westmacott would not depart this evening
from his usual custom. Another thing that Mr. Westmacott was not to
know--considering his youth--was the singular histrionic ability which
this old rake had displayed in those younger days of his when he had
been a player, and the further circumstance that he had excelled in
those parts in which ebriety was to be counterfeited. Indeed, we have it
on the word of no less an authority on theatrical matters than Mr. Pepys
that Mr. Nicholas Trenchard's appearance as Pistol in "Henry IV" in the
year of the blessed Restoration was the talk alike of town and court.

Mr. Trenchard steadied himself from the impact, and, swearing a round
and awful Elizabethan oath, accused the other of being drunk, then
struck an attitude to demand with truculence, "Would ye take the wall o'
me, sir?"

Richard hastened to make himself known to this turbulent roysterer, who
straightway forgot his grievance to take Westmacott affectionately by
the hand and overwhelm him with apologies. And that done, Trenchard--who
affected the condition known as maudlin drunk--must needs protest almost
in tears how profound was his love for Richard, and insist that the boy
return with him to the Bell Inn, that they might pledge each other.

Richard, himself sober, was contemptuous of Trenchard so obviously
obfuscated. At first it was his impulse to excuse himself, as possibly
Blake might be already waiting for him; but on second thoughts,
remembering that Trenchard was Mr. Wilding's most intimate famulus, it
occurred to him that by a little crafty questioning he might succeed in
smoking Mr. Wilding's intentions in the matter of that letter--for from
his sister he had failed to get satisfaction. So he permitted himself to
be led indoors to a table by the window which stood vacant. There were
at the time a dozen guests or so in the common-room. Trenchard bawled
for wine and brandy, and for all that he babbled in an irresponsible,
foolish manner of all things that were of no matter, yet not the most
adroit of pumping could elicit from him any such information as Richard
sought. Perforce young Westmacott must remain, plying him with more and
more drink--and being plied in his turn--to the end that he might not
waste the occasion.

An hour later found Richard much the worse for wear, and Trenchard
certainly no better. Richard fo