, sir, now you speak, I do know you," the innkeeper answered,
settling back into his chair once more; "but it's what mischief you're
up to that I'd _like_ to know."

"No mischief this time, Marmaduke. On my honor as a gentleman in his
majesty's service, I swear it." Laughter was bubbling out of the
girl's eyes, but her voice was deeper, gruffer, even than before. "But
it happens to be my whim of the moment that you should sit there just
as you are for five full minutes. I want you not to touch the scarf
that's about your eyes for that long time. Promise me that, Mr.
Tavern-keeper, and promise me, too, not to shout again for help. I
want a room for the night. And I'll have a cup of wine with you. Ah!
not so quick, good Marmaduke. At the end of the five minutes, I mean.
And yet I'm thirsting, too. You'll not believe it, but I've not tasted
wine for a fortnight or more. It matters not which room I take, I
suppose?"

"Ay, matter it does, sir," answered Marmaduke. "In fact, it's but poor
accommodation I can give you. Lord Farquhart has the whole house
engaged for the night. He's stopping here with a party of friends to
meet his lady, who's coming in from the north somewheres. I've only
the small closet back of the wine room for my own use."

"Then the small closet back of the wine room will have to serve me,"
she answered, "and you'll have to spend the night in this chair
ruminating on this Lord What's-his-name's greediness in claiming the
whole house. Or, perchance, I'll go when these young lords arrive, and
leave you your room to yourself. Now, remember, your life or mine is
forfeit if you raise that silken band ere I return. And I'm watching
you every minute; mind that, too."

She backed away from him, keeping a wary eye on him, but there was, in
reality, no need for this. He sat quite still, his hands peacefully
crossed on his stomach. Through the small doorway she slipped, her
trailing skirts still held high, but her heavy boots now seemed to
swagger across the wooden floor.

"And who may this Lord Farquhart be that he should require a whole
house and an empty house?" she asked, from the threshold, and even as
she spoke she was hurriedly removing the heavily plumed riding hat and
replacing it with a jaunty cap fringed with black, curling locks of
hair.

"Why, Lord Farquhart is--why, he's just the new Lord Farquhart that
was Mr. Percy Gordon not so long ago, before he came into a title that
carried no wealth with