clear, starlit evening, to see the high tower of a church, the timbered
fronts of old houses, and many a tall, venerable tree, before following
Mr. Pawle into a stone hall filled with dark oak cabinets and bright with
old brass and pewter, on the open hearth of which burnt a fine and cheery
fire of logs.

"Excellent!" muttered the old lawyer as he began to take off his
multitudinous wraps. "A real bit of the real old England! Viner, if the
dinner is as good as this promises, I shall be glad we've come, whatever
the occasion."

"Here's the landlady, I suppose," said Viner as a door opened.

A tall, silver-haired old woman, surprisingly active and vivacious in
spite of her evident age, came forward with a polite, old-fashioned bow.
She wore a silk gown and a silk apron and a smart cap, and her still
bright eyes took in the two visitors at a glance.

"Your servant, gentlemen," she said. "Your rooms are ready, and dinner
will be ready, too, when you are. This way, if you please."

"A very fine old house this, ma'am," observed Mr. Pawle as they followed
her up a curious staircase, all nooks and corners. "And you have, no
doubt, been long in it?"

"Born in it, sir," said the landlady, with a laugh. "Our family--on one
side--has been here two hundred years. This is your room, sir--this is
your friend's." She paused, and with a significant look, pointed to
another door. "That," she said, "is the room which Mr. Ashton had when he
was here."