es with amazement. The first to break
this strange silence was the parson. 'Sir,' said he, 'we have been
thinking that you are----' 'That I am a conjurer, a French spy, a
travelling packman, or something of the sort,' observed the stranger.
Doctor Poundtext started back on his chair, and well he might; for these
words, which the Man in Red had spoken, were the very ones he himself
was about to utter. 'Who are you, sir?' resumed he, in manifest
perturbation; 'what is your name?' 'My name,' replied the other, 'is
Reid.' 'And where, in heaven's name, were you born?' demanded the
astonished parson. 'I was born on the borders of the Red Sea.'

"Doctor Poundtext had not another word to say. The schoolmaster was
equally astounded, and withdrew the pipe from his mouth; that of the
exciseman dropped to the ground: the landlord groaned aloud, and his
spouse held up her hands in mingled astonishment and awe. After giving
them this last piece of information, the strange man arose from his
seat, broke his pipe in pieces, and pitched the fragments into the fire;
then, throwing his long cloak carelessly over his shoulders, putting his
hat upon his head, and loading himself with his boots, his whip, and his
portmanteau, he desired the landlord to show him to his bed, and left
the kitchen, after smiling sarcastically to its inmates, and giving them
a familiar and unceremonious nod.

"His disappearance was the signal for fresh alarm in the minds of those
left behind. Not a word was said till the return of the innkeeper, who
in a short time descended from the bedroom overhead, to which he had
conducted his guest. On re-entering the kitchen, he was encountered by a
volley of interrogations. The parson, the schoolmaster, the exciseman,
and his own wife, questioned him over and over again. 'Who was the Man
in Red?--he must have seen him before--he must have heard of him--in a
word, he must know something about him.' The host protested 'that he
never beheld the stranger till that hour: it was the first time he had
made his appearance at the Black Swan, and so help him God, it should be
the last!' 'Why don't you turn him out?' exclaimed the exciseman. 'If
you think you are able to do it, you are heartily welcome,' replied the
landlord; 'for my part, I have no notion of coming to close quarters
with the shank of his whip, or his great, red, sledge hammer fist.'

"This was an irresistible argument, and the proposer of forcible
ejectment said n