“Are you trying to put a game on me, sir?” said Thornby, wrathfully. Though he had evidently been called from his bottle, he was in full possession both of his legs and of his usual wits. “Look ye, ’tis mighty suspicious, poking your nose into my closets. I have a shrewd guess what you came into my house for—passing yourself off as a lord to my fool servants. And the lady?—I don’t see any lady here!—ecod, perhaps she’s poking her nose into the silver closet! Hey, Jabez, the plate!” With that, the Squire started for the door by which he had entered. “Nay, sir, you wrong us!” cried Everell, striding to intercept him. “The lady is in that closet—I took the liberty—she desires not to be seen. Upon my honour, sir, we had no purpose in entering your house but to ask your aid.” Thornby, having been stayed by Everell’s first declaration, gazed at the closet and then at the young gentleman. “But what the devil does the lady please to hide in a closet for?” “She desires not to be seen, as I tell you. ’Twas the nearest place of concealment. I locked the door lest you might open it before I could explain.” “And why doesn’t she desire to be seen? ’Tis the first of her sex afflicted that way, as ever I heard on. Is there aught the matter wi’ her looks? Ecod, what o’ that? There’s a plenty in the same boat amongst the she-folk hereabouts. There’s only one beauty in these four parishes, if I be any judge.” “’Tis for no such reason,” said Everell, with a smile, as he began to see his way. “Sir, I perceive you’re a blunt, outspoken gentleman, given to plain dealing yourself, and no doubt preferring it in others. I’m resolved to throw myself on your confidence, as far as I think safe, and tell you my story, or as much as I dare. Perhaps then your fellow-feeling—for your words imply a gallant sense of beauty in the tender sex—may impel you to assist me.” “H’m!” ejaculated the Squire, dubiously, though his relaxed countenance showed him to be decidedly mollified. “Perhaps—and then again, perhaps not. Let’s hear your story, howsomever. ’Tis all devilish curious—the lady desiring not to be seen, and the rest of it. Please to take this here chair.” The Squire moved an armchair from what was evidently the clerk’s place to where it faced across the table to the seat of judgment. He then went around and assumed the latter, having meanwhile rung for a servant. “And just to be on the safe side,” he added, “in case it _is_ a game you’re a-trying on, I’ll be prepared.” He drew a bunch of small keys from his pocket, opened a drawer in his side of the table, and fetched out a pair of pistols, which he laid before him; he then closed the drawer, all but a few inches. “Yes, sir, I keep ’em always loaded,” he said, as he looked to the priming. “I’m a blunt, outspoken man, as you observe, and I take my precautions.”