Mrs. Verwin herself welcomed the young couple the moment they set foot on the threshold, as she had already espied them from the window. Being a very stout woman, she could scarcely curtsey, but did her best, and invited her visitors into the best parlor. It was a great honor that the vicar’s son and the leading lady of the neighborhood—for that Marie was by virtue of descent if not of money—and Mrs. Verwin was quite overwhelmed. As the inn was quite respectable and well-conducted, Alan had no hesitation in taking Marie into the place, although Mrs. Fuller would scarcely have been pleased, because she disliked the landlady’s too ready tongue. But as that lively, black-eyed dame was a good churchwoman and really kind-hearted, the vicar had a better opinion of her. “Lor’ sir and miss,” cried Mrs. Verwin, energetically dusting a chair for Marie to sit down on. “Who’d ha’ thought of you an’ Mr. Alan coming to see me, friendly like. And very well you’re looking miss, though Mr. Alan there could do with a little red in them pale cheeks of his. London smoke,” added Mrs. Verwin in disgust, “and London food, and the milk that blue with watering as the sky is gray to it. Now do have a cup of tea, sir, and——” “No, thank you, Mrs. Verwin,” interrupted Alan quickly, for there was no chance of getting a word in edgeways save by cutting short the good lady’s voluble speech; “we have only come for five minutes. I want to ask you a question, if you don’t mind.” “Mind, Mr. Alan, and why should I mind, me being all straight and above the sky-line, respectable as my parents were before me, as anyone who can read is able to see on their tombstones in the right-hand corner of the churchyard looking from the porch. Ask me what you like, sir, whether it means weddings or funerals, or all that goes between in——” “I simply wish to know if during the last year you have seen an Indian gentleman in the village,” interrupted Fuller again, and with a look at Marie to show that he desired to conduct the conversation himself. “Well, I never, and to think as you didn’t hear of him, stopping here as he was in July last for one night, and saying as the rice he ate was boiled in a way he admired.” “Oh, so there was an Indian here?” Mrs. Verwin nodded and placed her stout arms akimbo, with curiosity in her snapping black eyes. “Quite the gentleman he was, though I hope there’s nothing wrong with him, meaning courts and docks and lawyers, as is all the sons of Old Nick, asking your pardon, Mr. Alan, for saying so, and yours, miss, for talking about him, as shouldn’t be spoke of, nohow. Now if——” “There’s nothing wrong about him,” said Alan, again stopping the flow of the landlady’s conversation, or rather monologue; “but I happened to meet him at Miss Grison’s boarding-house in London and——”