Seeing I should but waste time by tarrying, I got the fellow to release me from the leg-iron, and going to the pump, I made such shift as I could to cleanse my face and hands, and put my clothing into somewhat more decent array. When I saw the image of myself in the water, I no longer wondered that my tale should appear incredible, for I could scarce believe my own eyes. The flattened and twisted nose, and the scar across my cheek, had given me a look simply villainous. The sooner the better I found myself among those who knew me, thought I, and I hurried forward with a brief good day to mine host, who stood at the smithy door staring and scratching his head, as if in some perplexity. I made straight for Temple Belwood, where I might find Luke; nor was I quite without hope that my father might be inclined to reconciliation with a son who had come back from the dead. As I passed Belton church I caught sight of a woman seated on a flat tombstone, her back toward me, whose figure and attitude reminded me of Bess Boswell, and I entered the yard to get a nearer view. At the sound of my footfall she turned, and I saw it was the gipsy girl, her face tear-stained and woebegone. "Ulceby!" she cried. "You here! Do you know there are soldiers about?" "That is not my name," I answered. "Don't you know me, Bess?" She rose from the stone, stepped closely up to me, and looked wonderingly into my face, with one hand fluttering about her breast. Then she sank back upon the tombstone, still keeping her eyes fixed on me, and said-- "Oh yes; I know your voice; I know your eyes. But where have you been? And who lies there?"--pointing to a new-made grave. "Your servant swore it was you. Your father swore so. Speak again. Let me touch you." She rose, trembling all over, and reached out her hand. I took hold of it, and drew her down to the stone, seating myself beside her. "Who has done that hellish work on your face? No; don't tell me, not yet." She hid her face in her hands, shuddering. "That has been done to give me the semblance of the man you named just now. And this too," I said, baring my chest, showing a crown and anchor, and the letters J.U. "Who is Ulceby?" I asked. "A soldier, who escaped from Lincoln, after striking one of the officers, and being condemned to be sent to the plantations. He came to us for hiding. He had the ague badly, and was taken to safer and better quarters, so I was told. That was just before I was sent to Horncastle fair, and on to Corby, and Spalding, and Stamford, because my father must stay to attend to Ulceby. And he seemed to be so much concerned about the deserter, that I thought no evil could be brewing against you just then, and so I was far away when mischief was doing. But I don't understand. Where were you?" I told how I was captured, imprisoned, mutilated, and how I had escaped.