When Olver Dench reached his cottage, that stood but little removed from the landing-stage of the ferry, on the Seaton side of the water, he was much surprised to find that his fire was made up, and that some one was seated in front of it with hands extended and knees apart warming himself at it. He stood in his doorway and stared till his eyes were sufficiently accustomed to the light to enable him to distinguish the occupier of his room and chair. He had not locked his door on leaving. At that period few thought of fastening their houses unless leaving them for a long time, and the ferryman's cottage was usually free to any one to enter and wait for a passage. A neighbour undertook to attend to the ferry when Dench was away. It was not likely that any one would desire to cross after dark, but it was not impossible that one should. The individual by the fire was a gentleman in a bottle-green coat with high collar and brass buttons. The coat was short-waisted but long-tailed. His beaver hat, curled at the sides like a leaf attacked by aphis, stood on the table, and a malacca, gold-headed cane lay there also. He wore two waistcoats of differing cut, so as to allow the lower to show. A thick neckcloth enveloped his throat, and was pinned in front. Hearing the steps of Dench in the doorway he turned and exhibited a gold eyeglass, through which he had been studying the fire. His lavender trousers were strapped under his boots, and were tight-fitting from the knee down. He was a man of middle age, with slight whiskers elaborately curled, and a forehead apparently high, due to the retreat of his hair. He was a good-looking man decidedly, with mild blue eyes, a well-formed nose, and would have been handsome but for a weak mouth and a retreating chin. Just before Olver entered he had been peering down the tube of a latchkey, and then blowing into it to expel such dust as might have accumulated in it from residence in his pocket. Having satisfied himself on this score he laid the key on his knee, affixed the glass in his eye, and looked into the flames. The tread of Dench made him turn. 'Is that you, the Ferryman Dench?' asked the gentleman. Then placing a hand on each side of the chair he turned it about, so that still sitting he might observe him who entered. 'What! surely not Mr. Holwood!' exclaimed the boatman. He took off his glazed hat, turned it about in his hands, and added, 'Your servant, sir.' Then he cautiously shut the door behind him. 'Good Heavens, sir,' he said in a tone agitated and full of ill-concealed alarm. 'What ever has brought you here, sir? This is most risky.' 'I cannot help myself. I know that it is unsafe. But I have been prodigiously uneasy, and I felt it impossible to obtain rest of mind without seeing and speaking with you. I have a few days of liberty; I have taken advantage of them. Where is she?' 'Oh! she is right enough.' 'But whereabouts is she?'