which is vaguely called sympathy that his speech varied according to
his listener. "You hear the Marquis only speaks French. It is
about a fellow countryman of his buried here. Drop in and have a
glass of wine with us some evening; to-night, if you are at
liberty."

"What I can tell you won't take long," said Clubbe, over his
shoulder; for the tide was turning, and in a few minutes would be
ebbing fast.

"Dare say not. But we have a good bin of claret at 'The Black
Sailor,' and shall be glad of your opinion on it."

Clubbe nodded, with a curt laugh, which might have been intended to
deprecate the possession of any opinion on a vintage, or to express
his disbelief that Dormer Colville desired to have it.

Nevertheless, his large person loomed in the dusk of the trees soon
after sunset, in the narrow road leading from his house to the
church and the green.

Monsieur de Gemosac and his companion were sitting on the bench
outside the inn, leaning against the sill of their own parlour-
window, which stood open. The Captain had changed his clothes, and
now wore those in which he went to church and to the custom-house
when in London or other large cities.

"There walks a just man," commented Dormer Colville, lightly, and no
longer word could have described Captain Clubbe more aptly. He
would rather have stayed in his own garden this evening to smoke his