ich hung down from
beneath the low-crowned hat adorned by a single feather, and the bushy
beard and long mustachios still but slightly grizzled. His doublet and
cloak were richly embroidered, though the gold lace was somewhat
tarnished; his breeches, fastened at the knee, were of ample
proportions, while boots of buskin form encased his feet. A man of war
from his youth, though enjoying his ease, he even now wore girded to his
side his trusty sword without which he was never known to stir outside
his door.

At length he stopped; as his eye glanced along the road leading from
Plymouth. "Marry, who can those be coming up the hill?" he said to
himself. "They seem to be making for this--a well-grown youth and a
youngster--by their habits and appearance they are I judge of gentle
birth." As he spoke, the captain advanced towards the gateway to give
the young strangers a welcome, should it be their purpose to pay him a
visit. The elder was of a tall and graceful figure, with delicate
features, a slight moustache appearing on his lip; his habit, that of a
gallant of the day, though modest and free from extravagance.

The younger was of a stronger build; his countenance exhibiting a bold
and daring spirit, full of life and animation, and not wanting in
good-humour.

"Whom seek you, young sirs?" asked the old seaman, as the youths drew
near.

"One Captain Amyas Layton, an please you, sir," answered the elder of
the two. "We were told in Plymouth town, where we arrived last night on
horseback from Dartmouth, that we should find his residence in this
direction; and if I mistake not, we stand even now before him."

"You are right in your conjectures, young sirs," answered Captain
Layton; "I am the man you seek, and whoever you are and whatever your
object, believing it to be an honest one, I give you greeting. Enter,
for after your walk this warm summer's day you need rest and
refreshment; the first you may take at once--the second you shall have
as soon as my daughter Cicely returns from Plymouth, whither she has
gone a-marketing, with our servant Barnaby, on our old nag Sampson,
which I called after a Spanish carvel I sank out yonder--but of that
anon. Come in."

The captain, without waiting to make further inquiries of the strangers,
led the way into the hall, where he bade them take their seats in two
carved oak chairs on either side of the fireplace--albeit the warmth of
the day permitted not a fire to be burn