ry well.
And doubtless there'll be them coming in here, night-time, as'll know
the neighbourhood, and be able to give a man points as to his
bearings."

"I daresay you'll be very comfortable here," I assented. "It's not
exactly a desert island."

"Aye, well, and Salter Quick's been in quarters of that sort in his
time," he observed, with a glance that suggested infinite meaning. "He
has, so! But this ain't no desert island, master. I can see they ain't
short of good grub and sound liquor here!"

He made his usual jerk of the thumb--this time in the direction of the
landlord, who just then came back with a well-filled tray. And
presently, first removing his cap and saying his grace in a devout
fashion, he sat down and began to eat with an evidently sharp-set
appetite. Trifling with my bread and cheese, I turned to the landlord.

"This is a very lonely spot," I said. "I was surprised to see a
licensed house here. Where do you get your customers?"

"Ah, you wouldn't see it as you came along," replied the landlord. "I
saw you coming--you came from Alnmouth way. There's a village just
behind here--it 'ud be hidden from you by this headland at back of the
house--goodish-sized place. Plenty o' custom from that, o' nights. And
of course there's folks going along, north and south."

Quick, his weather-stained cheeks bulging with his food, looked up
sharply.

"A village, says you!" he exclaimed. "Then if a village, a church. And
if a church, a churchyard. There is a churchyard, ain't there?"

"Why, there is a church, and there's a churchyard to it," replied the
landlord. "What o' that?"

Quick nodded at me.

"As I been explaining to this gentleman," he said, "churchyards is
what I'm looking for. Graves in 'em, you understand. And on them
graves, a name. Name of Netherfield. Now I asks you, friendly--ha' you
ever seen that name in your churchyard? 'Cause if so I'm at anchor.
For the time being."

"Well, I haven't," answered the landlord. "But our churchyard--Lord
bless you, there's scores o' them flat stones in it that's covered
with long grass--there might be that name on some of 'em, for aught I
know; I've never looked 'em over, I'm sure. But----"

Just then there came into the parlour a man, who from his rough dress,
appeared to be a cattle-drover or a shepherd. Claigue turned to him
with a glance that seemed to indicate him as authority.

"Here's one as lives by that churchyard," he observed. "Jim! ha' you
ev