e right side
against appearances.

"I think," said the stranger, deliberately, "it is as well that you and
I, my friends, should understand each other. The turn of events has
made it likely that I shall pass my days in this neighbourhood, and I
wish to clear up all possible misconceptions at the start. In the first
place, I am going to marry Miss Ruby Tresidder. Our banns will be asked
in church to-morrow; but let us have a rehearsal. Can any man here show
cause or just impediment why this marriage should not take place?"

"You'd better ask that o' Young Zeb, mister," said Prudy.

"Why?"

"You owe your life to'n, I hear."

"When next you see him you can put two questions. Ask him in the first
place if he saved it at my request."

"Tut-tut. A man likes to live, whether he axes for it or no," grunted
Elias Sweetland. "And what the devil do you know about it?" demanded
the stranger.

"I reckon I know what a man's like."

"Oh, you do, do you? Wait a while, my friend. In the second place," he
went on, returning to Prudy, "ask young Zebedee Minards, if he wants my
life back, to come and fetch it. And now attend all. Do you see
these?"

He threw back his cloak, and, diving a hand into his coat-pocket,
produced a couple of pistols. The butts were rich with brass-work, and
the barrels shone as he held them out in the firelight.

"You needn't dodge your heads about so gingerly. I'm only about to give
you an exhibition. How many tall candlesticks have you in the house
besides the pair here?" he inquired of Prudy.

"Dree pair."

"Put candles in the other two pairs and set them on the chimney-shelf."

"Why?"

"Do as I tell you."

"Now here's summat _like_ a man!" said Prudy, and went out obediently to
fetch them.

Until she returned there was dead silence in the bar-parlour. The men
puffed uneasily at their pipes, not one of which was alight, and avoided
the stranger's eye, which rested on each in turn with a sardonic humour.

Prudy lit the candles, one from the other, and after snuffing them with
her fingers that they might burn steadily, arranged them in a row on the
mantelshelf. Now above this shelf the chimney-piece was panelled to the
height of some two and a half feet, and along the panel certain ballads
that Prudy had purchased of the Sherborne messenger were stuck in a row
with pins.

"Better take those ballads down, if you value them," the stranger
remarked.

She turned round inqui