“A traveller, and at this late hour. Who can it be?” said the select party in the parlour. “Who can it be?” “Here, waiter” said one and another, “don’t let the place be over-crowded, there are seven of our party here already; you can’t accommodate any more.” “I swear I’ll have no half bed to-night.” “Nor I either.” “Tell him to seek lodgings elsewhere in the village, landlord!” “He shan’t sleep with _me_,” growled Bates, “whoever he is.” “You needn’t put yourself out of temper, friend,” said the stranger, entering in a free and easy manner. “You needn’t put yourself into any flurry, for I wouldn’t have such an ugly-looking bed-fellow for all the gold in England.” As he said this he cut Bates across the shoulders with his riding-whip. “Hillo, what means this?” said Bates, spluttering with rage, “_I_ say, my fine, dandy gentleman, do you know who you’re cutting about the shoulders with your riding-whip? Take no such liberties, young man, or you may repent of it.” “Tut, tut, man, you don’t know how to stand a joke.” “That’s no joke, as you’ll quickly find, if you’re not very civil,” growled Bates, puffing his pipe. “This parlour is engaged,” said Captain Jack. “I see it is,” the stranger said, coolly. “The beds are all engaged.” “You had better go elsewhere.” “We don’t wish to be disturbed; we are all friends here.” “So I perceive,” said the stranger, coolly; “and I’m the last man in the wide world to make you enemies.” He was cloaked, and wore his hat over his eyes. A strongly-built, elegant-looking gentleman he was, with pale face, fine eyes, and a dashing moustache. His hands were remarkably white, but he seemed to have the strength of a vice in them. He took a chair, and drew up to the fire. “That chair belongs to one of our party, sir,” said Faulkner. “Then let him get another,” said the new arrival, very coolly. “Waiter, bring me a bottle of wine, and call the landlord. I wish to speak to him.” Nat brought the wine. The stranger sipped it, threw a sovereign to the waiter in a careless manner, saying— “Keep the change. Here, landlord, I want my horse looked after, give him the best stall in the stable.” “There is not a stall vacant, sir.” “Then turn some horse out, and put mine in. I want a bed also, the best bed in the inn.” “All my beds are occupied.” “It matters not; do as I tell you, or you’ll repent it.” “You are a werry rude bragadocia fellow to speak thus in the presence of gentlemen,” said Tom Bates to the stranger. “What do you say, old bilberry nose? Mind your own business.” “I say, sir, that in the presence of gentlemen—” “Gentlemen, ha! ha!—that’s good, hang me if it isn’t—you look very much like a gentleman, certainly; if that large wart was off the tip of your nose it would much improve your appearance.” “Sir-r-r!” growled Bates, rising in anger. “What do you mean? Do you know who _I am_?” said he, slapping his sword hilt.