Richly attired gentlemen of gallant appearance called during the day to inquire after his health and condition. At night also many of them dropped in to have a chat, and crack a bottle of wine with the invalid. Masque balls, marriages, elopements, and the latest court scandal were the topics of conversation with Redgill and his friends. The rattle of the dice-box, and shuffling of cards were the order of the evening among these gay revellers. Gayest of the gay, and loudest among them all, was Phillip Redgill, who, propped up with pillows on a luxurious sofa, joined the gamblers, and puffed a cigar with as much coolness as if nothing were the matter with him. The hours flew by, and Phillip neglected his appointment with Captain Jack. When he occasionally thought of his promise, he only smiled as he reflected, “That long-legged devil recognised me. Well, chance makes us acquainted with queer people sometimes; that comes of getting into scrapes upon the road. I suppose he wants to borrow some money of me, that’s all. Well, well, he’s an ugly-looking rascal, though, and I like not his looks. I’ll give that worthy a call to-morrow; I can’t meet him to-night; if I were to take a sedan chair all that distance it would re-open this cursed wound that Wildfire Ned gave me; d—m him!” During the night, other arrivals were announced, both lords and ladies of doubtful standing in society, brilliant in silks and paint. Music, light laughter, jokes, wit, and repartee, echoed through Phillip’s pleasant suite of rooms. Languishing smiles, whispered words, eloquent winks, nods, and pressure of the hand, passed and repassed from one to another. Some sang, others danced; here was a boisterous wine party, and there a gossiping set. The hours flew by, nor did any one give heed to thought or care. Midnight chimed from the church towers. The half hour tolled. But the merry makers took no notice of the flight of time. One o’clock struck. A loud knock was heard at the door. A servant opened it. Captain Jack stood there, accompanied by several friends. They were comparatively well-dressed; but slightly the worse for liquor. “Who are you, gentlemen?” the servant asked. “We are——” Captain Jack began. “No we ain’t,” replied Faulkner. “Yes we are,” said the captain, hiccupping. “What, sirs?” asked the servant again. “Why, gentlemen, to be sure,” said Captain Jack, leaning against the door-post. “I perceive that,” the servant replied; “but I fear me, sirs, you are somewhat the worse for liquor, and have missed your way, and called at the wrong mansion.” “No, dam’me, if I have!” said Captain Jack. “How dare you say that I am the worse for liquor, knave?” “I had better shut the door, gentlemen,” the servant said. “And if you do, I’ll brain you,” said Faulkner, with an oath.