and the stranger announced that he was ready.

They went upstairs to where the garments and sword lay hidden, till the
departing one said that on further thought he would ask another favour:
that he should be allowed to retain the clothes he wore, and that his
host would keep the others and the sword till he, the speaker, should
come or send for them.

'As you will,' said Swetman. 'The gain is on my side; for those clouts
were but kept to dress a scarecrow next fall.'

'They suit my case,' said the stranger sadly. 'However much they may
misfit me, they do not misfit my sorry fortune now!'

'Nay, then,' said Christopher relenting, 'I was too hasty. Sh'lt bide!'

But the other would not, saying that it was better that things should
take their course. Notwithstanding that Swetman importuned him, he only
added, 'If I never come again, do with my belongings as you list. In the
pocket you will find a gold snuff-box, and in the snuff-box fifty gold
pieces.'

'But keep 'em for thy use, man!' said the yeoman.

'No,' says the parting guest; 'they are foreign pieces and would harm me
if I were taken. Do as I bid thee. Put away these things again and take
especial charge of the sword. It belonged to my father's father and I
value it much. But something more common becomes me now.'

Saying which, he took, as he went downstairs, one of the ash sticks used
by Swetman himself for walking with. The yeoman lighted him out to the
garden hatch, where he disappeared through Clammers Gate by the road that
crosses King's-Hintock Park to Evershead.

Christopher returned to the upstairs chamber, and sat down on his bed
reflecting. Then he examined the things left behind, and surely enough
in one of the pockets the gold snuff-box was revealed, containing the
fifty gold pieces as stated by the fugitive. The yeoman next looked at
the sword which its owner had stated to have belonged to his grandfather.
It was two-edged, so that he almost feared to handle it. On the blade
was inscribed the words 'ANDREA FERARA,' and among the many fine chasings
were a rose and crown, the plume of the Prince of Wales, and two
portraits; portraits of a man and a woman, the man's having the face of
the first King Charles, and the woman's, apparently, that of his Queen.

Swetman, much awed and surprised, returned the articles to the closet,
and went downstairs pondering. Of his surmise he said nothing to his
daughters, merely declaring to them