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."