"

The reproof was just, and I apologised. Nevertheless Parkyn was not the
name I wanted. What was the name? And why did I want it? I had not
the least idea. For the next mile I continued to hunt my brain for the
right combination of syllables. I only knew that somewhere, now at the
back of my head, now on my tongue-tip, there hung a word I desired to
utter, but could not. I was still searching for it when the gig climbed
over the summit of a gentle rise, and the "Indian Queens" hove in sight.

It is not usual for a village to lie a full mile beyond its inn: yet I
never doubted this must be the case with Pitt's Scawens. Nor was I in
the least surprised by the appearance of this lonely tavern, with the
black peat-pool behind it and the high-road in front, along which its
end windows stare for miles, as if on the look-out for the ghosts of
departed coaches full of disembodied travellers for the Land's End.
I knew the sign-board over the porch: I knew--though now in the twilight
it was impossible to distinguish colours--that upon either side of it
was painted an Indian Queen in a scarlet turban and blue robe, taking
two black children with scarlet parasols to see a blue palm-tree.
I recognised the hepping-stock and granite drinking-trough beside the
porch; as well as the eight front windows, four on either side of the
door, and the dummy window immediately over it. Only the landlord was
unfamiliar. He appeared as the gig drew up--a loose-fleshed, heavy man,
something over six feet in height--and welcomed me with an air of
anxious hospitality, as if I were the first guest he had entertained for
many years.

"You received my letter, then?" I asked.

"Yes, surely. The Rev. S. Wraxall, I suppose. Your bed's aired, sir,
and a fire in the Blue Room, and the cloth laid. My wife didn't like to
risk cooking the fowl till you were really come. 'Railways be that
uncertain,' she said. 'Something may happen to the train and he'll be
done to death and all in pieces.'"

It took me a couple of seconds to discover that these gloomy
anticipations referred not to me but to the fowl.

"But if you can wait half an hour--" he went on.

"Certainly," said I. "In the meanwhile, if you'll show me up to my
bedroom, I'll have a wash and change my clothes, for I've been
travelling since ten this morning."

I was standing in the passage by this time, and examined it in the dusk
while the landlord was fetching a candle. Yes, ag