“A prison,” he muttered as soon as his eyes traveled over it. “Mill prison, where they treat the American seamen so cruelly, I have no doubt. And perhaps Shamus and that brave fellow McHale will be behind those walls before long.” As he looked, the huge door of the place opened and a tall, erect young man, in the scarlet coat of an English soldier, emerged, paused a moment, his eyes on Ethan, then came directly across toward him. For a moment the lad’s impulse was to run; but second thought showed him how useless this would be, and he stood his ground. “You are a sailor, I see,” said the soldier, his eyes running over the dress that Ethan had worn since his first day in the Ranger. The speaker was a handsome young fellow, with clear honest eyes, and a resolute face; in spite of himself Ethan liked his looks. “I am,” he answered, promptly. “Out of a man-of-war, I take it?” “Yes, and looking for another of the same sort,” said Ethan. The other regarded him with a peculiar expression, then asked: “What part of England are you from?” Ethan laughed lightly, and put the question aside. “I’ll not answer that for certain reasons,” said he. “No harm done, I hope, comrade,” spoke the young soldier. “None at all,” said Ethan, easily. The other turned and was about to walk away down the street; but he paused and said slowly and distinctly: “London, I think, is the place for you.” Then he wheeled about on his heel and walked, with military erectness, down along the prison wall, which he turned and so disappeared from view. “What could he have meant by that?” thought Ethan, astonished. “‘London, I think, is the place for you.’” He remained silent a moment, and then resumed, “And I think he is right. London is the place for me. There I can lose myself in the throngs; and perhaps I can somehow get a ship for France.” He gave up all hope of Longsword and McHale; bitter as was the thought he made up his mind that it would be useless to linger about Plymouth in the hope of helping them; he began to think, also, that it was dangerous for him, in his sailor’s dress, to be seen upon the streets; at any time a press-gang might happen along, for the king’s ships were badly in need of men for the American war. So before the city was well astir he had laid it behind him. On the road he met many wagons in from the farms with loads of fresh butter and eggs and other things for the town. “Oh, lad,” cried one old man pointing at the young tar with his whip, and speaking in a broad dialect, “hast left thy ship? It’s main queer, so it is, that first I should meet with a soldier, and now with a sailor, upon the road to town.” “A soldier,” thought Ethan, as he trudged along. “I wonder if it could be the same one?”