I could not sleep the whole of that night, and the next morning, I set
off early, with the resolution of discovering where Glanville had taken
up his abode; it was evident from his having been so frequently seen,
that it must be in the immediate neighbourhood.

I went first to Farmer Sinclair's; they had often remarked him, but could
give me no other information. I then proceeded towards the coast; there
was a small public house belonging to Sir Lionel close by the sea shore;
never had I seen a more bleak and dreary prospect than that which
stretched for miles around this miserable cabaret. How an innkeeper could
live there is a mystery to me at this day--I should have imagined it a
spot upon which anything but a sea-gull or a Scotchman would have
starved.

"Just the sort of place, however," thought I, "to hear something of
Glanville." I went into the house; I inquired, and heard that a strange
gentleman had been lodging for the last two or three weeks at a cottage
about a mile further up the coast. Thither I bent my steps; and after
having met two crows, and one officer on the preventive service, I
arrived safely at my new destination.

It was a house very little better, in outward appearance, than the
wretched but I had just left, for I observe in all situations, and in all
houses, that "the public" is not too well served. The situation was
equally lonely and desolate; the house, which belonged to an individual,
half fisherman and half smuggler, stood in a sort of bay, between two
tall, rugged, black cliffs. Before the door hung various nets, to dry
beneath the genial warmth of a winter's sun; and a broken boat, with its
keel uppermost, furnished an admirable habitation for a hen and her