Opposite the Dover wharf was an inn bearing the sign: The Red Fish. The frequenters of this inn were usually sailors, wharf-hands, etc.... Sometimes passengers from a recently arrived vessel stayed over a short while for the purpose of recovering from seasickness. At eleven in the forenoon of a day following soon after that described at the close of Book II, Kate, niece of the proprietor, displayed her rounded arms to the admiring eyes of the guests seated in the dingy dining hall, as she deposited on the tables bottles of beer and dishes of smoked salmon stewed with potatoes. One of the young men was so absorbed in gazing through a window out toward the wharf that he scarcely knew what he ate. He seemed waiting for some one and in so doing attracted the attention of two others seated in an obscure corner of the apartment, one of whom was apparently of some thirty years of age, of contracted lips, keen eyes and a nervous attitude. His general make-up was that of a man who vibrates to the suggestions of an idea. He scarcely ate and his glass of ale stood untasted. His companion had a very good appetite--a handsome young man somewhat coarse in type, of splendid proportions, ruddy cheeks, black whiskers, gleaming teeth and gay alert eyes full of directness and candor. The two men conversed in low tones. The younger always interrupted the talk on the approach of Kate, for the purpose of making sweet speeches in her ear. "Indeed I recognize him," declared the elder. "I have seen him in Paris and his title is Marquis de Brezé. His family is ultramonarchical and its loyalty has been paid in gold, for its confiscated property has been restored." "I wonder why he is here." "I cannot guess, Giacinto. Men in our position must always expect the worst. Many Frenchmen, await their vessels in this inn, but the Marquis's attitude arouses suspicion. He awaits some one. The fact that he comes from _There_ should put us on our guard." "Bah!" exclaimed Giacinto, with a flash of his perfect teeth, "'tis some piece of gallantry--a question of petticoats." "Or of politics. We must not lose sight of him, for holding on to the end of a thread sometimes leads to a bobbin. This inn, in which _our_ Volpetti is in the habit of stopping, is so suspicious a place that even the air is infected. If the Marquis awaits a lady, luck to him! But if not--" "I swear 'tis love," asserted Giacinto, failing to comprehend the other's indifference to the romantic. "Well, now let us get to business. If our brother knights have correctly informed us, Volpetti will reach the inn today. Are you sure you will recognize him? You know the fox is clever in disguises."