This neither satisfied the lady nor old Pompey, who began again to give tongue most furiously. Finding that she was unable to make them stir, the lady determined to investigate the matter herself; and, telling the young men her intention, she again went out, and advanced to the very spot where she had seen the man enter the shrubbery. The traces on the snow convinced her the man was in the shrubbery. In a firm and decided voice, she cried out-- "Come out of that bush--come out, I say! I know you are there; I saw you enter; and if you do not immediately come out, I will order the dog to be let out upon you! Come out! You had better come out this moment." The bushes began to move, the snow to fall from the leaves, and out rolled a heavy-looking man, dressed as a sailor, and apparently drunk; he looked up at the lady with a villainous scowl, and staggered a step towards her. "What do you do here? Who are you?" she said, without moving. "My name's John Luff. I--(hiccup)--I--I do no harm!" At the sound of his voice, Pompey became so furious that he actually dragged his great kennel from its fixture, and as his chain would not break, it came lumbering along over the stones towards the spot. As the fellow heard this, he began to stagger off, but at every step turned round to see if the lady followed him. This she did, keeping at the same distance from him, and saying, "Be off with you! be off!" She then saw him go out at the gate, and turn round the wall, to the shore. Farther than her own gate she did not think it prudent to go; but when she got so far, she was rejoiced to see her husband at a distance returning upon the marsh wall to the Cliff. Old Pompey had by this time come up to the gate with his kennel behind him, and evidently impatient to be let loose. She was engaged in the attempt to unloose the dog as her astonished husband came up to the gate; he soon learned the cause of this appearance, and immediately undid Pompey's collar; the animal sprang over the gate, and ran along the shore till he came to the cut where boats occasionally landed, and was closely followed by his master, who plainly saw a man pulling into the channel in a manner which convinced him he was no inexperienced hand at the oar. In the meantime an exaggerated report reached St. Margaret's Green, that a sailor had been seen lurking about the premises at the Cliff, and that he had attacked their mistress. Of course, the tale lost nothing but truth by the telling; and it was affirmed in the kitchen that it was Will Laud himself. Some told Margaret the fact; she felt greatly annoyed, and was much surprised that when Mrs. Cobbold came to the house the next day, she did not speak to her upon the subject. She resolved that if her mistress did not soon speak to her, she would broach the subject herself; but Mrs. Cobbold put this question to her the next day:-- "Margaret, do you know a man of the name of John Luff?"