"Not exactly," answered Justice Best. "The fact is this; the high sheriff and several of our brother magistrates are not quite satisfied in regard to this servant of Colonel Henry Smeaton. They think you may have been deceived, Sir John. It is very easy, you know, to assume a rude and vulgar manner; and, having received very distinct information that the Earl of Eskdale, whom we all know to have been attainted in King William's reign, took his way towards your house, they imagine that this servant may be the man, and they wish him to be apprehended on suspicion." Sir John Newark laughed aloud. "What need of a troop of soldiers to arrest a single lackey?" he asked. "Why, your fishermen in the village are said to be somewhat mutinous," replied the Justice; "and, in case of resistance, you know--" "You do not suppose, sir, that I would resist or countenance resistance to lawful authority?" interrupted Sir John Newark. "But, if this mare's nest is so very important a one, I think you might have ridden on to find it, without stopping at this house to drink punch." "We had another little business here, besides," rejoined the Justice, who stood in some awe of Newark; "but our doing so has procured us the advantage, I hope, of your company on the way:" "Nothing of the kind, sir," retorted Sir John, sharply. "I certainly shall not go with you to see a gentleman, my guest, and the intimate friend of my Lord Stair, insulted in my house, by the pretence that his servant is the Earl of Eskdale, forsooth! You may go on when you please. I shall stay here till this unpleasant business is over. But let me warn you that it be conducted legally; for it shall be strictly looked to, depend upon it." As he spoke, a man entered with a leathern apron, a dirty face, a bowl of punch in one hand, and a tallow candle in the other; for, by this time, night was falling fast. Sir John Newark's eyes rested on him, for an instant, and a confused doubtful sort of sensation took possession of him, which we all of us feel when we see a face that we know but to which we cannot affix a name. Suddenly, however, the scene of the statuary's house in London came back upon his mind, and the round, odd-shaped, never-to-be-forgotten form of Van Noost, was there before him, in a disguise partaking somewhat of the tapster and somewhat of the blacksmith. A single glance of intelligence passed from one face to the other; but not a word of recognition was uttered. Van Noost set down the candle and the bowl, went back to the tap for a fresh ladle and glass, and then, rolling out of the room, closed the door behind him. CHAPTER XII. From the turbulent scene amongst the magistrates at Exeter, and the somewhat annoying occurrences which Sir John Newark had met with on the road back, let us turn to the quieter doings at Ale Manor House.