platter on the table, and
broke it as if he would eat. This was one of Father Persons' devices, and
was used among Catholics to signify their religion when they were with
strangers, since it was an action that could rouse no suspicion among
others. The man looked in an unintelligent way at Anthony, who turned
away and rapped upon the door, and as a large heavily-built man came out,
broke it again, and put a piece into his mouth. The man lifted his
eyebrows slightly, and just smiled, and Anthony knew he had found his
friend.

"Come this way, sir," he said, "and your good lady, too."

They followed him into the inner room of the house, a kind of little
kitchen, with a fire burning and a pot over it, and one or two barrels of
drink against the wall. A woman was stirring the pot, for it was near
dinner-time, and turned round as the strangers came in. It was plainly an
inn that was of the poorest kind, and that was used almost entirely by
watermen or by travellers who were on their way to cross the ferry.

"The less said the better," said the man, when he had shut the door. "How
can I serve you, sir?"

"We wish to take our horses and ourselves across to Greenhithe," said
Anthony, "and Mrs. Kirke, to whom we are going, bade us make ourselves
known to you."

The man nodded and smiled.

"Yes, sir, that can be managed directly. The ferry is at the other bank
now, sir; and I will call it across. Shall we say in half an hour, sir;
and, meanwhile, will you and your lady take something?"

Anthony accepted gladly, as the time was getting on, and ordered dinner
for the servants too, in the outer room. As the landlord was going to the
door, he stopped him.

"Who is that man in the other room?" he asked.

The landlord gave a glance at the door, and came back towards Anthony.

"To tell the truth, sir, I do not know. He is a sailor by appearance, and
he knows the talk; but none of the watermen know him; and he seems to do
nothing. However, sir, there's no harm in him that I can see."

Anthony told him that he had broken the bread before him, thinking he was
the landlord. The real landlord smiled broadly.

"Thank God, I am somewhat more of a man than that," for the sailor was
lean and sun-dried. Then once more Mr. Bender went to the door to call
the servants in.

"Why, the man's gone," he said, and disappeared. Then they heard his
voice again. "But he's left his groat behind him for his drink, so all's
well"; and presently