I am a man stricken in years, and-well-nigh spent with labour, yet it
behoves that, for the public good, I should take pen in hand, and set
down the truth of those matters wherein I played a part. And, indeed,
it may befall that, when the tale is put forth in print, the public
may find it to their liking, and buy it with no sparing hand, so that,
at the last, the payment shall be worthy of the labourer.

[Illustration]

I have never been gifted with what pedants miscall courage. That
extreme rashness of the temper which drives fools to their destruction
hath no place in my disposition. A shrinking meekness under
provocation, and a commendable absence of body whenever blows fell
thick, seemed always to me to be the better part. And for this I
have boldly endured many taunts. Yet it so chanced that in my life I
fell in with many to whom the cutting of throats was but a moment's
diversion. Nay, more, in most of their astounding ventures I shared
with them; I made one upon their reckless forays; I was forced, sorely
against my will, to accompany them upon their stormy voyages, and to
endure with them their dangers; and there does not live one man, since
all of them are dead, and I alone survive, so well able as myself
to narrate these matters faithfully within the compass of a single
five-shilling volume.

CHAPTER II.

On a December evening of the year 17--, ten men sat together in the
parlour of "The Haunted Man." Without, upon the desolate moorland, a
windless stricture of frost had bound the air as though in boards, but
within, the tongues were loosened, and the talk flowed merrily, and