"Ah! I'm the first swallow that you've seen this year, I dare say. Well, I hope I herald a lucky summer. Take a glass of your own sherry, will you?" The landlord looked suspiciously at his guest: perhaps the phrase "your own sherry" smote his conscience, knowing the price he paid for it, and what it was, and what he meant to charge; but grunting: "Here's to you, Sir," he filled his glass, and smacked his lips over it slowly. "Solomon has not set him against me," was Richard's conclusion. "The graceful manner of this Cornish giant is natural to him.--You have a fine castle here, Mr. Trevethick, and nobly placed. Indeed, I never saw the like before." "So most folks say," answered the landlord. "There is not much left of it, however," said Richard, smiling. "Well, it'll last my time, at all events, and I dare say yours," was the morose reply. "Indeed it will, and that of many a generation to come. It is seldom one sees such massive walls. A good deal of trouble, however, seems to have been taken to prevent people from running away with them, to judge by this;" and he held up the key. "Well, the castle is mine, Sir--or, at least, I pay my rent for it; and, I suppose, I can do what I like with my own. If there was no gate there, do you think any body would pay me for viewing the place? Not they. Why, there's some parties ain't even content with the key, but must have a guide too, or else they buttons up their pockets." It was so impossible to misunderstand the bearing of this remark that Richard burst out into a good-humored laugh; he was really pleased because the landlord's hint assured him that he was in ignorance that he had had a guide. "I shall certainly pay my footing, Mr. Trevethick, the same as if I had had an attendant--of which, however, I should have been glad at one or two places; the wind did take my hat, and very nearly the rest of me. But what I meant by the trouble that was taken to secure your ruins from intruders was with reference not to the door, but to the key of it. Why, if it were a real castle, full of furniture, it could not be more effectually guarded. You must have good lock-smiths hereabout, if that's a specimen of their work." The icy landlord thawed again. "Well, Sir, the fact is, I made that key with my own hands." "You?" cried Richard, in affected astonishment. "Why, you must be a mechanical genius. Look at the work! look at the wards!" and he scrutinized them admiringly close to the candle. "Do take another glass, Mr. Trevethick." "Nay, Sir; I've a friend in the parlor waiting for me," rejoined the landlord, dryly. He appeared already to regret having given way to that momentary feeling of self-esteem. "I wish _I_ had," observed Richard, smiling. "It's lonely work coming down here by one's self, and finding nobody to speak to." There was a short pause, during which Richard was rapt in admiration of the key.