ng pattering beside
him; at first it was a little uncanny in that dim, uncertain light, and
he stopped and bent down to the road. It was a dog, a fox-terrier of a
kind, dirty, and even in that light most obviously a mongrel. But it
jumped up at him and put its paws on his knee.

"Well, company's company," he said with a laugh. "I don't know where
you've sprung from, but we'll travel together for a bit." The dog ran
up the hill, and for a moment stood out against the moon--a shaggy,
disreputable dog with a humorous stump of a tail. He stood there with
one ear flapping back and the other cocked up--a most ridiculous figure.

Harry laughed again and the dog barked; they walked down the hill
together.

The Cove was dark, but from behind shuttered windows lamps twinkled
mysteriously, and the red glow from the inn flung a circle of light
down the little cobbled street. The beat of the sea came solemnly like
the tramp of invisible armies from the distance. There was no other
sound save the tremble of the wind in the trees.

Harry pushed open the door of the inn and entered, followed by the dog.
The place was the same; nothing had been changed. There was the old
wooden gallery where the fiddle had played such merry tunes. The rough
uneven floor had the same holes, the same hills and dales. The great
settle by the fire was marked, as in former years, with mysterious
crosses and initials cut by jack-knives in olden days. The two lamps
shone in their accustomed places--one over the fire, another by the
window. The door leading to the bar was half open, and in the distance
voices could be heard, but the room itself seemed to be empty.

A great fire leapt in the fireplace and the gold light of it danced on
the red-brick floor. The peculiar scent as of tobacco and ale and the
salt of the sea, and, faintly, the breath of mignonette and geraniums,
struck out the long intervals since Harry had been there before.
Twenty years ago he had breathed the same air; and now he was back
there again and nothing was changed. The dog had run to the fire and
sat in front of it now, wagging his stump of a tail, his ear cocked.
Harry laughed and sat down in the settle; the burden of the last week
was flung off and he was a free man.

A long, lean man with a straggling beard stood in the doorway and
watched him; then he came forward. "Mr. Harry," he said, and held out
his hand.

Harry started up. "I'm sorry," he said, stammering