"Ay, it _is_ me," replied the old man, sadly, "although I do sometimes doubt my own existence. It ain't often that I'm interrupted--but what brings ye here, lad, and who were these that I saw running like foul fiends across the sandhills on such a night as this?" "They were Supple Rodger and Long Orrick," replied Tommy, "and a foul fiend is one of 'em, anyhow, as you'd have found out, old Jeph, if ye'd bin at home this evenin'. As for bein' out on sich a night as this, it seems to me ye han't got much more sense to boast of in this respect than I have. You'll ketch your death o' cold, old man." "Old man!" echoed Jeph, with a peculiar chuckle. "Ha! yes, I _am_ an old man, and I've bin used to such nights since I wos a _young_ man. But come away, lad, I'll go home with ye now." Old Jeph took the boy's hand as he said this, and the two went over the moor together--slowly, for the way was rough and broken, and silently, for the howling of the gale rendered converse almost impossible. It is not to be supposed that Tommy Bogey had such command over himself, however, as altogether to restrain his curiosity. He did make one or two attempts to induce old Jeph to explain why he was out in such a stormy night, and on such a lonely spot; but the old man refused to be communicative, and finally put a stop to the subject by telling Tommy to let other people's business alone, and asking him how it happened that Long Orrick came to make an attempt on his house, and how it was he failed? Tommy related all he knew with alacrity and for a time secured old Jeph's attention, as was plain from the way in which he chuckled when he heard how his enemy had been outwitted; but gradually the narrative fell on uninterested ears, and before they regained the town the old man's countenance had become grave and sad, and his mind was evidently wandering among the lights--mayhap among the shadows--of "other days." CHAPTER NINE. UNBUSINESSLIKE PROCEEDINGS IN "THE OFFICE"--PEEKINS GROWS DESPERATE AND TAKES REFUGE IN THE "THREE JOLLY TARS." Mr Denham stood in front of his office fire with a coat-tail, as usual, under each arm; his feet planted on two little roses that grew on each side of a large bouquet which flourished perennially on his rug, and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He had just arrived at Redwharf Lane, and looked quite fresh and ruddy from the exercise of walking, for Denham was a great walker, and frequently did the distance between his house and his office on foot.