almost hid his
eyebrows. If it were intended to conceal or divert attention from a deep
gash, now healed into an ugly seam, which when it was first inflicted
must have laid bare his cheekbone, the object was but indifferently
attained, for it could scarcely fail to be noted at a glance. His
complexion was of a cadaverous hue, and he had a grizzly jagged beard
of some three weeks' date. Such was the figure (very meanly and poorly
clad) that now rose from the seat, and stalking across the room sat down
in a corner of the chimney, which the politeness or fears of the little
clerk very readily assigned to him.

'A highwayman!' whispered Tom Cobb to Parkes the ranger.

'Do you suppose highwaymen don't dress handsomer than that?' replied
Parkes. 'It's a better business than you think for, Tom, and highwaymen
don't need or use to be shabby, take my word for it.'

Meanwhile the subject of their speculations had done due honour to the
house by calling for some drink, which was promptly supplied by the
landlord's son Joe, a broad-shouldered strapping young fellow of twenty,
whom it pleased his father still to consider a little boy, and to treat
accordingly. Stretching out his hands to warm them by the blazing fire,
the man turned his head towards the company, and after running his eye
sharply over them, said in a voice well suited to his appearance:

'What house is that which stands a mile or so from here?'

'Public-house?' said the landlord, with his usual deliberation.

'Public-house, father!' exclaimed Joe, 'where's the public-house
within a mile or so of the Maypole? He means the great house--the
Warren--naturally and of course. The old red brick house, sir, that
stands in its own grounds--?'

'Aye,' said the stranger.

'And that fifteen or twenty years ago stood in a park five times as
broad, which with other and richer property has bit by bit changed hands
and dwindled away--more's the pity!' pursued the young man.

'Maybe,' was the reply. 'But my question related to the owner. What it
has been I don't care to know, and what it is I can see for myself.'

The heir-apparent to the Maypole pressed his finger on his lips, and
glancing at the young gentleman already noticed, who had changed his
attitude when the house was first mentioned, replied in a lower tone:

'The owner's name is Haredale, Mr Geoffrey Haredale, and'--again
he glanced in the same direction as before--'and a worthy gentleman
too--hem!'

Paying a