rear of the house, looking towards the stables. 'We haven't met of
late years so often as we used to do--changes are taking place in the
family--it's desirable that I should stand as well with them, in point
of dignity, as possible--the whispering about of this here tale will
anger him--it's good to have confidences with a gentleman of his natur',
and set one's-self right besides. Halloa there! Hugh--Hugh. Hal-loa!'

When he had repeated this shout a dozen times, and startled every pigeon
from its slumbers, a door in one of the ruinous old buildings opened,
and a rough voice demanded what was amiss now, that a man couldn't even
have his sleep in quiet.

'What! Haven't you sleep enough, growler, that you're not to be knocked
up for once?' said John.

'No,' replied the voice, as the speaker yawned and shook himself. 'Not
half enough.'

'I don't know how you CAN sleep, with the wind a bellowsing and roaring
about you, making the tiles fly like a pack of cards,' said John; 'but
no matter for that. Wrap yourself up in something or another, and come
here, for you must go as far as the Warren with me. And look sharp about
it.'

Hugh, with much low growling and muttering, went back into his lair;
and presently reappeared, carrying a lantern and a cudgel, and enveloped
from head to foot in an old, frowzy, slouching horse-cloth. Mr Willet
received this figure at the back-door, and ushered him into the bar,
while he wrapped himself in sundry greatcoats and capes, and so tied and
knotted his face in shawls and handkerchiefs, that how he breathed was a
mystery.

'You don't take a man out of doors at near midnight in such weather,
without putting some heart into him, do you, master?' said Hugh.

'Yes I do, sir,' returned Mr Willet. 'I put the heart (as you call it)
into him when he has brought me safe home again, and his standing steady
on his legs an't of so much consequence. So hold that light up, if you
please, and go on a step or two before, to show the way.'

Hugh obeyed with a very indifferent grace, and a longing glance at the
bottles. Old John, laying strict injunctions on his cook to keep the
doors locked in his absence, and to open to nobody but himself on pain
of dismissal, followed him into the blustering darkness out of doors.

The way was wet and dismal, and the night so black, that if Mr Willet
had been his own pilot, he would have walked into a deep horsepond
within a few hundred yards of his own house, and