st of seven children, sat down to table with
them. Breakspeare made a slight apology for his presence, adding
genially: "_Meminisse juvabit_." The meal was more than tolerable; the
guest thoroughly enjoyed himself, talking with as little affectation as
his nature permitted, and, with a sense of his own graciousness, often
addressing to Mrs. Breakspeare a remark on the level of her
intelligence.

"When you come down to Hollingford," said the journalist, "I suppose
you will generally stay at Lady Ogram's?"

"Possibly," was the reply. "But I think I had better decide which is to
be my hotel, when I have need of one. Will you advise me in that
matter?"

Breakspeare recommended the house which Lashmar already knew, and added
hints concerning the political colour of leading trades-folk. When they
rose, the host reminded Dyce of his suggestion that they should go and
see an old friend of his, one Martin Blaydes.

"We shall find him smoking his pipe, with a jug of beer at his elbow.
Martin is homely, but a man of original ideas, and he will appreciate
your visit."

So they set forth, and walked for a quarter of an hour towards the
outskirts of the town. Mr. Blaydes, who held a small municipal office,
lived alone in a very modest dwelling, his attendant a woman of
discreet years. As Breakspeare had foretold, he was found sitting by
the fireside the evening was cool enough to make a fire agreeable a
churchwarden between his lips, and a brown jug of generous capacity on
the table beside him. As the door opened, he turned a meditative head,
and blinked myopically at his visitors before rising. His movements
were very deliberate; his smile, which had the odd effect of elevating
one eyebrow and depressing the other, made him look as if he were about
to sneeze. Not without ceremony, Breakspeare presented his companion,
whom the old man (his years touched on seventy) greeted in the words of
Belshazzar to Daniel:

"I have heard of thee, that the spirit of the gods is in thee, and that
light and wisdom and excellent understanding are found in thee.--Be
seated, Mr. Lashmar, be seated. Friend Breakspeare, put your toes on
the fender. Mr. Lashmar, my drink is ale; an honest tap which I have
drunk for some three score years, and which never did me harm. Will you
join me?"

"With pleasure, Mr. Blaydes."

A touch upon the bell summoned the serving woman.

"Mrs. Ricketts, another jug of the right amber, and two beakers. I know
not