three-cornered hat that he might the better mop his brow and
youthful, almost cherubic face. What time he did so, a pair
of bright little blue eyes were very busy with. Mr. Caryll's
carriage, from which Leduc, Mr. Caryll's valet, was in the act
of removing a portmantle. His mobile mouth fell into lines of
satisfaction.

Still mopping himself, he entered the inn, and, guided by the
drone of voices, sauntered into the bar. At sight of Mr.
Caryll leaning there, his little eyes beamed an instant, as do
the eyes of one who espies a friend, or - apter figure - the
eyes of the hunter when they sight the quarry.

He advanced to the bar, bowing to Mr. Caryll with an air
almost apologetic, and to the landlady with an air scarcely
less so, as he asked for a nipperkin of ale to wash the dust
of the road from his throat. The hostess called a drawer to
serve him, and departed herself upon the momentous business of
Mr. Caryll's dinner.

"A warm day, sir," said the chubby man.

Mr. Caryll agreed with him politely, and finished his glass,
the other sipping meanwhile at his ale.

"A fine brew, sir," said he. "A prodigious fine brew! With
all respect, sir, your honor should try a whet of our English
ale."

Mr. Caryll, setting down his glass, looked languidly at the