t, who saluted him cheerfully.

"Hello, Beacraft, old cock! How's the mad world usin' you these palmy,
balmy days?"

"Pretty well," said Beacraft, sullenly.

"That's right, that's right," cried Mount. "My friends and I thought
we'd just drop around. Ain't you glad, Beacraft, old buck?"

"Not very," said Beacraft.

"Not very!" echoed Mount, in apparent dismay and sorrow. "Ain't you
enj'yin' good health, Beacraft?"

"I'm well, but I'm busy," said the man, slowly.

"So are we, so are we," cried Mount, with a brisk laugh. "Come in,
friends; you must know my old acquaintance Beacraft better; a King's
man, gentlemen, so we can all feel at home now!"

For a moment Beacraft looked as though he meant to shut the door in our
faces, but Mount's huge bulk was in the way, and we all followed his
lead, entering a large, unplastered room, part kitchen, part bedroom.

"A King's man," repeated Mount, cordially, rubbing his hands at the
smouldering fire and looking around in apparent satisfaction. "A King's
man; what the nasty rebels call a 'Tory,' gentlemen. My! Ain't this nice
to be all together so friendly and cosey with my old friend Beacraft?
Who's visitin' ye, Beacraft? Anybody sleepin' up-stairs, old friend?"

Beacraft looked around at us, and his eyes rested on Sir George.

"Who be you?" he asked.

"This is my friend, Mr. Covert," said Mount, fairly sweating cordiality
from every pore--"my dear old friend, Mr. Covert--"

"Oh," said Beacraft, "I thought he was Sir George Covert.... And yonder
stands your dear old friend Timothy Murphy, I suppose?"

"Exactly," smiled Mount, rubbing his palms in appreciation.

The man gave me an evil look.

"I don't know you," he said, "but I could guess your business." And to
Mount: "What do you want?"

"We want to know," said I, "whether Captain Walter Butler is lodging
here?"

"He was," said Beacraft, grimly; "he left yesterday."

"And I hope you like my sto-ry!"

hummed Mount, strolling about the room, peeping into closets and
cupboards, poking under the bed with his rifle, and finally coming to a
halt at the foot of the stairs with his head on one side, like a
jay-bird immersed in thought.

Murphy, who had quietly entered the cellar, returned empty-handed, and,
at a signal from me, stepped outside and seated himself on a
chopping-block in the yard, from whence he commanded a view of the house
and vicinity.

"Now, Mr. Beacraft," I said, "whoever lodges above must