Having first been at the precaution to convince ourselves that his Grace's curricle lingered nowhere about the house, we went in and called for our modest refreshment. And we were engaged in doing justice to it with a good deal of zest, when to our great fear we heard the sound of wheels on the road, and by the time we could turn round and look out of the inn-window a chaise had come to a stand in front of the door. It needed but a glance to tell us that we might have been spared our alarm, since it was not the one belonging to Mrs. Cynthia's papa. This was a much less imposing carriage, of a prim colour and cast that was designed not to attract any attention. It contained two persons. The first who alighted from it was a middling drab-coated kind of a fellow, smug of countenance, and not to be looked at twice. He was doubtless the unliveried servant of a well-to-do tradesman; an estimate that was borne out by the deferential, not to say obsequious air with which he stood at the side of the vehicle, and assisted the second occupant to get out. This was a vastly more imposing person. He was a great fat, heavy-featured man, with an almost overpowering consequentialness about him. He moved with a slow but dignified strut, spoke in a very loud voice, and yet there was a tone of affable condescension about him too that was very baffling. He might be the mayor or an alderman of some provincial town, some local big-wig, or even a pursy magnate of commerce. By the time he had moved in his heavy dignity into the room in which Cynthia and I were seated at our bread and cheese, the landlord had taken note of his visitor, and had come forward to greet him with all the respectful familiarity of one who was happy to meet again an old and cherished and highly-valued client. "No other than Mr. John Jeremy, by all that's wonderful," says the landlord, bowing and smiling. "_The_ Mr. John Jeremy, as I'm a licensed victualler." No sooner had the landlord uttered the name than I looked hastily at Cynthia, and she looked hastily at me. Where had we heard that name so recently, and in what connexion? Suddenly the same flash of recollection illuminated the minds of us both. It was the name of the celebrated Bow Street runner, as given in the _London Gazette_. I think we both went hot and then cold. But when the first emotion of surprise was overpast, a dogged resolution succeeded to it and with it a determination to put, if need be, as bold a face upon the matter as we could. After all there was nothing about us by which we could be identified. Appearances were certainly in our favour; and the black eye I had that morning received from the farmer was not the least likely thing of all to stand me in good stead. "Sit tight," I whispered to her, "and we'll keep asipping out of the same pot as unconcerned as possible." Mr. Jeremy having seated himself with majestic negligence at a table immediately opposite us, turned to his companion and says: