"A sad case, truly," he murmured. "No mother and such a guardian. Poor
soul, if she but knew! Well, we must find her a husband."

He looked down as he spoke, and catching sight of his rusty clothes and
broken shoes, clapped his hand to his pocket; and with a glance at his
host, sallied out to renew his wardrobe. The innkeeper, with an
inscrutable face, watched him down the quay, then with bent head he
returned to the house and fell to work on his accounts.

In this work Gunn, returning an hour later, clad from head to foot in new
apparel, offered to assist him. Mullett hesitated, but made no demur;
neither did he join in the ecstasies which his new partner displayed at
the sight of the profits. Gunn put some more gold into his new pockets,
and throwing himself back in a chair, called loudly to George to bring
him some drink.

In less than a month the intruder was the virtual master of the "Golden
Key." Resistance on the part of the legitimate owner became more and
more feeble, the slightest objection on his part drawing from the
truculent Gunn dark allusions to his past and threats against his future,
which for the sake of his daughter he could not ignore. His health began
to fail, and Joan watched with perplexed terror the growth of a situation
which was in a fair way of becoming unbearable.

The arrogance of Gunn knew no bounds. The maids learned to tremble at
his polite grin, or his worse freedom, and the men shrank appalled from
his profane wrath. George, after ten years' service, was brutally
dismissed, and refusing to accept dismissal from his hands, appealed to
his master. The innkeeper confirmed it, and with lack-lustre eyes fenced
feebly when his daughter, regardless of Gunn's presence, indignantly