"God rot the man," said the Major thickly. "Does he say that I'm sprawling about in somebody's belly?" He staggered to his feet, hand on sword, and made to cross to the stranger, shouting, "Damnation to you, I'll thrust something into your belly!" Brocton, not in the least to my surprise, made no attempt to interfere. Jack couldn't, for I was in the way. His father began to splutter helplessly. I shot out my foot, and swept the Major heavily to the floor. I plucked him up by his collar as if he were a rabbit, and choked him till his face was nearly black. Then I put him back in his chair, where he sat huddled up and gasping. "Sir," said I to him, with much politeness, "you are tired by the exertions of the evening. But I like a man who sticks up for his commander, and desire to have the honour of drinking your health." And I toasted him complacently, smiling the while into his little pig's eyes. This terminated the trouble, which Master Freake had watched with quiet amusement. For my own part I was now anxious to go, for I was learning nothing. Accident favoured me, for a servant came in and whispered something to Brocton which took him out of the room. I seized the opportunity to follow, declining to allow Jack to accompany me, and wishing him good-bye and good luck. "Remember about Kate," were his last words, whispered eagerly as he loosed my hand and opened me the door. Several rooms opened on the landing, and I noticed that one door was ajar. As I passed the slit of light I caught sight of the sergeant of dragoons, and stopped beyond the door to listen. I heard Brocton's voice, and caught the words, "Egad, I'll e'en try her. Take the best horse available. There's no danger, but speed is everything." He dropped his voice to a whisper and for a moment or two I caught nothing. Then, raising his voice again, he said, "And now for your prize." I heard him move to go, and darted ahead, silent as a bat in a barn, and a moment later was in the noisy street. There was nothing to keep me now, and a few minutes later I quietly lifted Marry-me-quick's latch, stepped into the room, and observed at once that Mistress Waynflete's look imported news. "Now, little mother," said I to Mistress Tonks, "supper's the blessedest word I know." "And the rabbit-stew's as good as done by now," she said, and went into the back room to dish it up. "The man with the slit face has been," said Mistress Waynflete composedly. "He came hunting for quarters, but Mistress Tonks frightened him off. At any rate, he soon left." "Did he recognize you as 'Moll' of the Hanyards?"