a man
was not fit to lay a knife and fork by.

Some sense of the harm he had done to himself, without a bit of good to
any one, dwelt heavily in the Captain's mind, as he rode up slowly upon
the most amiable of the battery-horses--for all sailors can ride, from
long practice on the waves--and struck a stern stroke, with a stick like
a linstock, upon the old shutter that served for a door and the
front entrance to Carne Castle. There used to be a fine old piece
of workmanship in solid and bold oak here, a door divided in the
middle--else no man might swing it back--and even so pierced with a
wicket, for small people to get through. That mighty door was not worn
out, for it was not three hundred years old yet, and therefore scarcely
in middle life; but the mortgagees who had sacked the place of all that
was worth a sack to hold it, these had a very fine offer for that door,
from a rich man come out of a dust-bin. And this was one of the many
little things that made Caryl Carne unpleasant.

"I do not require production of your warrant. The whole place is open to
your inspection," said Carne, who had long been prepared for this visit;
"open to all the winds and rains, and the lower part sometimes filled
with water. The upper rooms, or rather the few that remain of them, are
scarcely safe for a person of any weight to walk in, but you are most
welcome to try them, if you like; and this gentleman, I think, might not
fall through. Here are my quarters; not quite so snug as my little room
at the widow's; but I can offer you some bread and cheese, and a glass
of country cider. The vaults or cellars have held good wine in their
time, but only empty casks and broken bottles now."

Captain Stubbard had known for many years the silent woes of poverty,
and now he observed with some good-will the young man's sad but haughty
smile. Then he ordered his young subaltern, his battery-mate, as he
called him, to ascend the broad crumbling staircase, and glance into the
dismantled chambers, while himself with the third of the party--a trusty
old gunner--should inspect the cellarage.

"We will not keep you long, sir," he said to Carne; "and if you are kind
enough to show us the way, which is easily lost in a place of this kind,
we shall be all the quicker. Wilkins, when you have done up there, wait
here for us. Shall we want a light, sir?"

"In the winter, you could hardly do without one, but at this time of
year, I think you may. At any