Anthony had a taste for dress, and on this occasion was exceedingly careful. His tall, long-napped beaver was brushed and "laid"; his neck-cloth, stiff with starch,--a new mode among the young men of the time,--caught him tightly under the ears. His square-skirted, high-collared coat of Lincoln green had gilt buttons on the breast and sleeves; his waistcoat was of silk and fitted snugly; his pantaloons--an article of wear flung before the world by the French Revolution--were strapped tightly down under his varnished boots. Older men were still holding to knee shorts, worsted stockings, and buckled shoes; some continued to powder their hair; but progressive youth had been caught up by the rush of the revolution, and their thoughts seemed set not only against old forms in government but in dress as well. There was a public room at the Half Moon, and when Anthony descended he turned into it. The floor was sanded, and there were settles and chairs arranged comfortably about; a fire of chestnut knots crackled in a wide fireplace; upon pegs in the wall hung traveling-coats, saddle-bags, and whips; people lounged about and drowsed, or talked in little groups, or read the scant journals by the light of whale-oil lamps. The young man stood in the doorway and searched the room for those whom he hoped to see; but he was disappointed. Then he walked its length, slowly, examining every one present. No, the old Frenchman, and--was it his daughter?--of the New York packet, were not there. He then went into the room on the opposite side of the passage, where the tables were laid for the tavern's hearty supper; but it was too early; none among the guests had yet considered food. There was a short man with a jolly red face seated upon a bench in the passage; he wore a waterproof hat and held a whip between his knees. Anthony nodded to him, and the round face at once took on the look of a rosy moon. "The inn seems very well filled," said Anthony. "It always is," the red-faced man replied. And then, "Are you a stranger in the city, sir?" "Practically so," said Anthony. The stout man spoke in a low tone of confidence. "Senators make this their place of entertainment," he told Anthony. "A justice of the Supreme Court is now drinking in the bar." "A deal of travel halts here, I'd say," hinted Anthony. "You say truth, then. I drive a-many here myself; but the public coaches also make it a place of call." "The sloops and schooners from up and down the river also bring many patrons?" said Anthony. "The New York packet brought two to-day," said the red-faced man. "An elderly gentleman and his daughter. They are French, I would say. Name of Lafargue. I drove them to Mrs. Craigie's a while ago." "Then they have left the inn!" exclaimed Anthony. "For a little space only." The man took out a thick watch of silver and consulted it carefully. "In some hours more," said he, "I shall be going after them."