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whose horse was close upon his heels； and glancing with a leer at
his bolster case of pistols； by which he seemed to set great store。
He was a square…built； strong…made； bull…necked fellow； of the true
English breed； and as Hugh measured him with his eye； he
measured Hugh； regarding him meanwhile with a look of bluff
disdain。 He was much older than the Maypole man； being to all
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appearance five…and…forty； but was one of those self…possessed；
hard…headed； imperturbable fellows； who； if they are ever beaten
at fisticuffs； or other kind of warfare； never know it； and go on
coolly till they win。
‘If I led you wrong now；’ said Hugh； tauntingly； ‘you’d—ha ha
ha！—you’d shoot me through the head； I suppose。’
John Grueby took no more notice of this remark than if he had
been deaf and Hugh dumb； but kept riding on quite comfortably；
with his eyes fixed on the horizon。
‘Did you ever try a fall with a man when you were young；
master？’ said Hugh。 ‘Can you make any play at single…stick？’
John Grueby looked at him sideways with the same contented
air； but deigned not a word in answer。
‘—Like this？’ said Hugh； giving his cudgel one of those skilful
flourishes； in which the rustic of that time delighted。 ‘Whoop！’
‘—Or that；’ returned John Grueby； beating down his guard with
his whip； and striking him on the head with its butt end。 ‘Yes； I
played a little once。 You wear your hair too long； I should have
cracked your crown if it had been a little shorter。’
It was a pretty smart； loud…sounding rap； as it was； and
evidently astonished Hugh； who； for the moment； seemed
disposed to drag his new acquaintance from his saddle。 But his
face betokening neither malice； triumph； rage； nor any lingering
idea that he had given him offence； his eyes gazing steadily in the
old direction； and his manner being as careless and composed as if
he had merely brushed away a fly； Hugh was so puzzled； and so
disposed to look upon him as a customer of almost supernatural
toughness； that he merely laughed； and cried ‘Well done！’ then；
sheering off a little； led the way in silence。
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Before the lapse of many minutes the party halted at the
Maypole door。 Lord George and his secretary quickly
dismounting； gave their horses to their servant； who； under the
guidance of Hugh； repaired to the stables。 Right glad to escape
from the inclemency of the night； they followed Mr Willet into the
common room； and stood warming themselves and drying their
clothes before the cheerful fire； while he busied himself with such
orders and preparations as his guest’s high quality required。
As he bustled in and out of the room； intent on these
arrangements； he had an opportunity of observing the two
travellers； of whom； as yet； he knew nothing but the voice。 The
lord； the great personage who did the Maypole so much honour；
was about the middle height； of a slender make； and sallow
complexion； with an aquiline nose； and long hair of a reddish
brown； combed perfectly straight and smooth about his ears； and
slightly powdered； but without the faintest vestige of a curl。 He
was attired； under his greatcoat； in a full suit of black； quite free
from any ornament； and of the most precise and sober cut。 The
gravity of his dress； together with a certain lankness of cheek and
stiffness of deportment； added nearly ten years to his age； but his
figure was that of one not yet past thirty。 As he stood musing in
the red glow of the fire； it was striking to observe his very bright
large eye； which betrayed a restlessness of thought and purpose；
singularly at variance with the studied composure and sobriety of
his mien； and with his quaint and sad apparel。 It had nothing
harsh or cruel in its expression； neither had his face； which was
thin and mild； and wore an air of melancholy； but it was suggestive
of an indefinable uneasiness； which infected those who looked
upon him； and filled them with a kind of pity for the man： though
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why it did so； they would have had some trouble to explain。
Gashford； the secretary； was taller； angularly made； high…
shouldered； bony； and ungraceful。 His dress； in imitation of his
superior； was demure and staid in the extreme； his manner；
formal and constrained。 This gentleman had an overhanging
brow； great hands and feet and ears； and a pair of eyes that
seemed to have made an unnatural retreat into his head； and to
have dug themselves a cave to hide in。 His manner was smooth
and humble； but very sly and slinking。 He wore the aspect of a
man who was always lying in wait for something that wouldn’t
come to pass； but he looked patient—very patient—and fawned
like a spaniel dog。 Even now； while he warmed and rubbed his
hands before the blaze； he had the air of one who only presumed
to enjoy it in his degree as a commoner； and though he knew his
lord was not regarding him； he looked into his face from time to
time； and with a meek and deferential manner； smiled as if for
practice。
Such were the guests whom old John Willet； with a fixed and
leaden eye； surveyed a hundred times； and to whom he now
advanced with a state candlestick in each hand； beseeching them
to follow him into a worthier chamber。 ‘For my lord；’ said John—it
is odd enough； but certain people seem to have as great a pleasure
in pronouncing titles as their owners have in wearing them—‘this
room； my lord； isn’t at all the sort of place for your lordship； and I
have to beg your lordship’s pardon for keeping you here； my lord；
one minute。’
With this address； John ushered them upstairs into the state
apartment； which； like many other things of state； was cold and
comfortless。 Their own footsteps； reverberating through the
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spacious room； struck upon their hearing with a hollow sound；
and its damp and chilly atmosphere was rendered doubly
cheerless by contrast with the homely warmth they had deserted。
It was of no use； however； to propose a return to the place they
had quitted； for the preparations went on so briskly that there was
no time to stop them。 John； with the tall candlesticks in his hands；
bowed them up to the fireplace； Hugh； striding in with a lighted
brand and pile of firewood； cast it down upon the hearth； and set it
in a blaze； John Grueby （who had a great blue cockade in his hat；
which he appeared to despise mightily） brought in the
portmanteau he had carried on his horse； and placed it on the
floor； and presently all three were busily engaged in drawing out
the screen； laying the cloth； inspecting the beds； lighting fires in
the bedrooms； expediting the supper； and making everything as
cosy and as snug as might be； on so short a notice。 In less than an
hour’s time； supper had been served； and ate； and cleared