The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North." "Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I ask pardon for my unwitting speech." "I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro', sir." All those present arose. "Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy, Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of both?" "With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of shillings." Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at this speech or nettled by its cool assurance. "Some ill fortune?"--he began politely. "There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good shirt between the two." A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely. "To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher, if you will be so good as to name such to me." "Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help yourself."