As the family of the young barrister was sitting at dinner, there entered to them unannounced, and without apology, an elderly man, in very singular attire, and of very singular appearance. Markham had a recollection of having seen him in court. His countenance had an expression of archness, and he seemed by his looks as though he were on the eve of uttering some choice piece of wit; there were also observable indications of impetuosity and strong self-will. His head was nearly bald; his shoulders of ample breadth; his stature short; his voice shrill; and his manner of speaking quick and dogmatical. Without taking any notice of the father and mother of the barrister, he addressed himself directly to Horatio. “I suppose you don’t know me--my name is Martindale.” “The Hon. Philip Martindale?” replied the young man with great composure; for he was quite ignorant of the person of the defendant in the recent action. “The Hon. Philip Martindale!” echoed the stranger, with a tone and with a look which answered the question very decidedly. “The Hon. Philip rascal!--no, sir; my name is not made ridiculous by any such lying adjunct. My name is John Martindale; and it is my misfortune to be called cousin by that hopeful spark who was defendant in the action this morning. I am come, sir, to tell you that I think you did yourself honour by the manner in which you conducted the poor man’s cause.” Horatio Markham perceived that, though the gentleman was somewhat of an oddity, he was a man of some consequence, and apparently a man of good feeling; he therefore replied: “Sir, you are very polite; you.…” “No such thing,” interrupted Mr. Martindale; “I am not polite, and hope I never shall be polite. My cousin Philip is a very polite man.” Then directing his conversation to Mr. Markham the elder, he continued: “I congratulate you, sir, on having for a son a young man who can make a speech without fine words and metaphors.” This seemed to the father a singular ground of congratulation, and he did not know how to reply to it: fortunately, the speaker did not wait for a reply; but turning again to the young man, he said: “You must come and spend a few weeks with me in my cottage at Brigland. I will have no excuses, so tell me when you will come. Will you go home with me tonight?” Markham recollected that he had in his boyhood heard frequent talk and many singular anecdotes of Mr. John Martindale of Brigland; but as his general character was one of benevolence and shrewd sense, he was not reluctant to accept the invitation, especially as it was given in such terms as not to be refused without that degree of rudeness which did not seem suitable from a young man of humble origin towards an elderly person of high rank. He therefore professed his readiness to spend a short time with his new friend, and fixed the following day for the purpose. The stranger then took his leave. CHAPTER II.