d a
big, rough-looking man with his hands on his hips.

"Oho! Here be the other fine bird a-homing, I'll warrant," he cried.

The place was full. I caught sight of Davenport, the tailor, with a
wry face, talking against the noise; of Banks, the man I had hired,
resplendent in my livery. One of the hotel servants was in the
corner perspiring over John Paul's chests, and beside him stood a man
disdainfully turning over with his foot the contents, as they were
thrown on the floor. I saw him kick the precious vellum-hole waistcoat
across the room in wrath and disgust, and heard him shout above the
rest: "The lot of them would not bring a guinea from any Jew in St.
Martin's Lane!"

In the other corner, by the writing-desk, stood the hatter and the
haberdasher with their heads together. And in the very centre of the
confusion was the captain himself. He was drest in his new clothes
Davenport had brought, and surprised me by his changed appearance, and
looked as fine a gentleman as any I have ever seen. His face lighted
with relief at sight of me.

"Now may I tell these rogues begone, Richard?" he cried. And turning
to the man confronting me, he added, "This gentleman will settle their
beggarly accounts."

Then I knew we had to do with bailiffs, and my heart failed me.

"Likely," laughed the big man; "I'll stake my oath he has not a groat to
pay their beggarly accounts, as year honour is pleased to call them."

They ceased jabbering and straightened to attention, awaiting my reply.
But I forgot them all, and thought only of the captain, and of the
trouble I had brought him. He began to show some consternation as I went
up to him.

"My dear friend," I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, "I beg, I
pray that you will not lose faith in me,--that you will not think any
deceit of mine has brought you to these straits. Mr. Dix did not know
me, and has had no word from my grandfather of my disappearance. And Mr.
Manners, whom I thought my friend, spurned me in the street before the
Duke of Chartersea."

And no longer master of myself, I sat down at the table and hid my face,
shaken by great sobs, to think that this was my return for his kindness.

"What," I heard him cry, "Mr. Manners spurned you, Richard! By all
the law in Coke and Littleton, he shall answer for it to me. Your
fairweather fowl shall have the chance to run me through!"

I sat up in bewilderment, doubting my senses.

"You believe me, captain," I said