black wig, and a
splayed face that promised heartiness. His small fishy eyes, however,
with a cast in them that was next door to a squint, belied the promise.
He came up to Hunt's stirrup and gave him joy of his freedom very
loudly. "And you will find all well at home," he continued. "All well
and hearty."

Hunt thanked him coldly, watered his horse, and drank a cup of ale with
the landlord; who looked at him pitifully, as at a man once admirable
and now fallen. Then he climbed into his saddle again and started
briskly. But he had not ridden a hundred paces before Eubank, on his old
white mare, was at his side. "My way is your way," said he.

Hunt grunted, and wondered how long that had been so; for New Romney,
where the apothecary lived, lay to the right. But he said nothing.

"They have quartered three soldiers on you," Eubank continued, squinting
out of the corner of one eye to mark the effect of his words, "and an
officer."

The smuggler checked his horse. "As if I had not done enough for them!"
he cried bitterly.

"Umph!" said the apothecary, drily, and with meaning. "The truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth! Eh, Mr. Hunt?"

He spoke below his breath, but Hunt caught the words and turned on him,
his face blazing with rage. "You dirty tar-mixer!" he cried, flinging
caution to the winds. "What do you mean? And how dare you ride out to
meet me? If you have anything to say, say it, and begone."

"Softly, softly, Mr. Hunt," Eubank answered, his face a shade paler.
"You know what I mean. There was a name wanting in your evidence--in
your deposition. A name lacking, d'ye take me?"

"A name?"

"Ay, Mr. Fayle's. And Mr. Fayle is missing, too. But I don't think," the
apothecary continued cunningly, his eyes gazing far apart, "that he is
in France. I think that he is nearer Romney. And that is why they have
quartered three soldiers on you."

"You villain!" Hunt cried, his voice shaking with passion. "This is
your work." And he raised his heavy riding-whip, and made as if he would
ride the other down. The two were alone on the marsh.

But quick as thought Eubank lugged a pistol from his holster and
levelled it.

"Softly, Mr. Hunt," he said. "Softly! I warn you, if anything happens to
me, it is known who is with me. Besides, I mean you no harm."

"And no good," said the smuggler, between his teeth. "What do you want?"

"What I have always wanted," the other answered. "Is there any harm in
wanting