"'Ods! Blest if I know what he is," says Mr. Claude. "He may be
anything, an impostor or a high-mightiness. But he's something to strike
the eye and hold it, for all his Quaker clothes. He is swarth and
thickset, and some five feet eight inches--full six inches under your
own height. And he comes asking for you as if you owned the town between
you. 'Send a fellow to Marlboro' Street for Mr. Richard Carvel, my good
host!' says he, with a snap of his fingers. And when I tell him the news
of you, he is prodigiously affected, and cries--but here's my gentleman
now!"

I jerked my head around. Coming down the steps I beheld my old friend
and benefactor, Captain John Paul!

"Ahoy, ahoy!" cries he. "Now Heaven be praised, I have found you at
last."

Out of the saddle I leaped, and straight into his arms.

"Hold, hold, Richard!" he gasped. "My ribs, man! Leave me some breath
that I may tell you how glad I am to see you."

"Mr. Jones!" I said, holding him out, "now where the devil got you
that?"

"Why, I am become a gentleman since I saw you," he answered, smiling.
"My poor brother left me his estate in Virginia. And a gentleman must
have three names at the least."

I dropped his shoulders and shook with laughter.