Royal Arms shining bravely from its red panels. 

 Shop-keepers ran to their doors, the crowd closed up about it, the yokels gaped—for who in those days felt no interest in its advent! By that coach had come, eleven years before, the news of the abdication of the Corsican and the close of the Great War. Laurelled and flagged, it had thrilled the town a year afterwards with the tidings of Waterloo. Later it had signalled the death of the old blind king, and later still, the acquittal—as all the world regarded it—of Queen Caroline. Ah, how the crowd had cheered then! And how lustily old Squire Griffin of Garth, the great-uncle of this young man, now come to meet the mail, had longed to lay his cane about their disloyal shoulders! 

 The coachman, who had driven the eleven-mile stage from Haygate in fifty-eight minutes, unbuckled and flung down the reins. The guard thrust his bugle into its case, tossed a bundle of journals to the waiting boys, and stepped nimbly to the ground. The passengers followed more slowly, stamping their chilled feet, and stretching their cramped limbs. Some, who were strangers, looked about them with a travelled air, or hastened to the blazing fires that shone from the Lion windows, while two or three who were at their journey’s end bustled about, rescuing shawls and portmanteaux, or dived into inner pockets for the coachman’s fee. 

 The last to appear, a man, rather below the middle height, in a handsome caped travelling-coat, was in no hurry. He stepped out at his ease and found the young man who has been described at his side. “That you, Arthur?” he said, his face lighting up. “All well?” 

 “All well, sir. Let me take that!” 

 “Isn’t Rodd here? Ah!” to a second young man, plainer, darker, and more soberly garbed, who had silently appeared at his forerunner’s elbow. “Take this, Rodd, will you?” handing him a small leather case. “Don’t let it go, until it is on my table. All well?” 

 “All well, sir, thank you.” 

 “Then go on at once, will you? I will follow with Mr. Bourdillon. Give me your arm, Arthur.” He looked about him as he spoke. One or two hats were lifted, he acknowledged the courtesy with a smile. “Betty well?” 

 “You’ll find her at the window looking out. All gone swimmingly, I hope, sir?” 

 “Swimmingly?” The traveller paused on the word, perhaps questioning its propriety; and he did not continue 

 Prev. P 4/363 next