glad to see your lordship looking so well again," said the
host.

"Thank you, thank you, my good host," replied the Baron.

"It would have been an ugly thing, you know, my lord, for your lordship
to have died suddenly in my inn. It would have looked like foul play,"
said the landlord.

"True, true, my good host; I understand," replied his lordship. "I trust
you'll convey my best apologies to your good lady for----"

"Oh, I trust your lordship won't mention it," said the landlord; "and if
there is anything else your lordship may require----"

"Nothing, thank you," said the Baron; and the landlord left the room.

I was surprised at the change in the Baron's manner. Perhaps, after all,
he might not be so bad as he appeared. His infirmity of temper was
certainly against him. His personal appearance no less so. Nevertheless,
in his better moments he appeared to possess the manners of a gentleman.
I began to fancy that the experiences of the past night might, after
all, have been a dream, until I caught sight again of the enormous
flea-bites on my hands, which still smarted.

The Baron's manner to me during breakfast was most affable. After
breakfast we left the inn together and strolled leisurely towards the
Hall. On the way the Baron made me acquainted with the particulars of
his case, and I promised to do the best I could to serve him.
Nevertheless, I saw at once that the Baron was most decidedly in the
wrong. I told him it was likely to go hard with him; in fact, I said I
did not see how he could well get off.

The Baron frowned, and we walked on in silence towards the Hall. That
very day the case was tried at the assizes, and in spite of all my
efforts, the Baron lost. I will not weary you with the details of the
case. Suffice it that there was oppression and injustice on the part of
the Baron which could not be excused, resulting from a morbid belief in
his own importance.

After the court broke up the Baron led me in silence to the Hall and
beckoned me to his room, the walls of which were covered over with every
sort of weapon of defence under the sun. There were pistols, daggers,
blunderbusses, rapiers, broadswords, cutlasses, Malay creases, poisoned
spear heads, a two-handed sword, probably belonging to his ancestor of
cruel memory, and an iron bar to which were attached a chain and ball of
spikes.

On entering the room he slammed the door, and turning suddenly upon me,
he hissed out, "Paltry pettifogger,