"Pick it up!" said he, motioning imperiously to the cane on the floor between us.

"Heaven forbid, sir," said I; "'is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?'"

"I told you to pick it up," he repeated, thrusting his head towards me; "are you going to do so, or must I make you?" and his nostrils worked more than ever.

For answer I raised my foot and sent the cane spinning across the room. Somebody laughed, and next moment my hat was knocked from my head. Before he could strike again, however, I raised my staff, but suddenly remembering its formidable weight, I altered the direction of the blow, and thrust it strongly into the very middle of his gayly flowered waistcoat. So strongly did I thrust, indeed, that he would have fallen but for the timely assistance of his companion.

"Come, come," said I, holding him off on the end of my staff, "be calm now, and let us reason together like logical beings. I knocked down your cane by accident, and you, my hat by intent; very well then, be so good as to return me my property, from the corner yonder, and we will call 'quits.'"

"No, by gad!" gasped my antagonist, bending almost double, "wait--only wait until I get--my wind--I'll choke--the infernal life out of you--only wait, by gad!"

"Willingly," said I, "but whatever else you do, you will certainly reach me my hat, otherwise, just so soon as you find yourself sufficiently recovered, I shall endeavor to throw you after it." Saying which, I laid aside my staff, and buttoned up my coat.

"Why," he began, "you infernally low, dusty, ditch-trotting blackguard--" But his companion, who had been regarding me very closely, twitched him by the sleeve, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was it affected my antagonist strangely, for he grew suddenly very red, and then very white, and abruptly turned his back upon me.

"Are you sure, Mostyn?" said he in an undertone.

"Certain."

"Well, I'd fight him were he the devil himself! Pistols perhaps would be--"

"Don't be a fool, Harry," cried the other, and seizing his arm, drew him farther away, and, though they lowered their voices, I caught such fragments as "What of George?" "changes since your time," "ruin your chances at the start," "dead shot."

"Sir," said I, "my hat--in the corner yonder."

Almost to my surprise, the taller of the two crossed the room, followed by his friend, to whom he still spoke in lowered tones, stooped, picked up my hat, and, while the other stood scowling, approached, and handed it to me with a bow.

"That my friend, Sir Harry Mortimer, lost his temper, is regretted both by him and myself," said he, "but is readily explained by the fact that he has been a long time from London, while I labored under a--a disadvantage, sir--until your hat was off."

Now, as he spoke, his left eyelid flickered twice in rapid succession.

"I beg you won't mention it," said I, putting on my hat; "but, sir, why do you wink at me?"

"No, no," cried he, laughing and shaking his head, "ha! ha!

--deyvilish good! By the way, they tell me George himself is in these parts--incog. of course--"

"George?" said I, staring.

"Cursed rich, on my life and soul!" cried the tall gentleman, shaking his head and laughing again. "Mum's the word, of course, and I swear a shaven face becomes you most deyvilishly!"

"Perhaps you will be so obliging as to tell me what you mean?"

said I, frowning.

"Oh, by gad!" he cried, fairly hugging himself with delight.

"Oh, the devil! this is too rich--too infernally rich, on my life and soul it is!"

Now all at once there recurred to me the memory of Tom Cragg, the Pugilist; of how he too had winked at me, and of his incomprehensible manner afterwards beneath the gibbet on River Hill.

"Sir," said I, "do you happen to know a pugilist, Tom Cragg by name?"

"Tom Cragg! well, I should think so; who doesn't, sir?"

"Because," I went on, "he too seems to labor under the delusion that he is acquainted with me, and--"

"Acquainted!" repeated the tall gentleman, "acquainted! Oh, gad!"

and immediately hugged himself in another ecstasy.

"If," said I, "you will have the goodness to tell me for whom you evidently mistake me--"

"Mistake you!" he gasped, throwing himself upon the settle and rocking to and fro, "ha! ha!--mistake you!"

Seeing I did but waste my breath, I turned upon my heel, and made for the door. As I went, my eye, by chance, lighted upon a cheese that stood at the fat landlord's elbow, and upon which he cast amorous glances from time to time.

"That seems a fine cheese!" said I.

"It is, sir, if I might make so bold, a noble cheese!" he rejoined, and laid his hand upon it with a touch that was a caress.

"Then I will take three pennyworth of your noble cheese," said I.

"Cheese!" faintly echoed the gentleman upon the settle, "three pennyworth. Oh, I shall die, positively I shall burst!"

"Also a loaf," said I. And when the landlord had cut the cheese with great nicety--a generous portion--and had wrapped it into a parcel, I put it, together with the loaf, into my knapsack, and giving him "Good day!" strode to the door. As I reached it, the tall gentleman rose from the settle, and bowed.

"Referring to George, sir--"

"George!" said I shortly; "to the devil with George!"

Now I could not help being struck by the effect of my words, for Sir Harry let fall his cane, and stared open-mouthed, while his companion regarded me with an expression between a frown and wide-eyed dismay.

"Now I wonder," said I to myself as I descended the steps, "I wonder who George can be?"

Before the inn there stood a yellow-wheeled stanhope with a horse which, from his manner of trembling all over for no conceivable reason, and manifest desire to stand upon his hind legs, I conceived to be a thorough-bred; and, hanging grimly to the bridle, now in the air, now on terra firma, alternately coaxing and cursing, was my friend the Semi-quavering Ostler. He caught sight of me just as a particularly vicious jerk swung him off his legs.

"Damn your liver!" he cried to the horse, and then, to me: "If you'll jest call Joe to 'old this 'ere black varmin for me, I'll --fill yer--eye up."

"Thanks," said I, "but I much prefer to keep it as it is; really there is no need to trouble Joe, and as for you, I wish you good morning!"

And when I had gone a little way, chancing to glance back over my shoulder, I saw that the Outside Passenger stood upon the inn steps, and was staring after me.

CHAPTER XII

THE ONE-LEGGED SOLDIER

Following the high road, I came, in a little, to where the ways divided, the one leading straight before me, the other turning sharp to the left, where (as I remember) is a very steep hill.