'I have, sir.'
The Commodore, without further remark, signified his wish to be on the way: and soon Mr. Cross was seated on an easy cushion in a fine carriage, and with such company as he never had the honor of riding with before; but I presume it was a matter of secret rejoicing with him that the journey would be a short one—the soft seat and the good company were thorns and fire to him.
Commodore Trysail alone left the carriage, and as Mr. Foster opened his door, entered without waiting for any ceremony.
'Mr. Foster, I presume, sir?'
'At your service, sir,' making a low bow to the Commodore.
'You are a justice of the peace?'
'I am, sir.'
'Gentlemen,' said the Commodore—calling to those in the carriage—'the Esquire is at home, you can come in.'
Mr. Foster began to be much surprised, not only at the peculiar manner of his visitor in his own abrupt entrance, but at calling, without leave, a coach-load of folks to follow: his looks however manifested something more than surprise, when he found himself honoured with the presence of those who now entered his apartment.
'Mr. Rutherford, that deed, if you please.' The tones of the Commodore's voice assumed a harshness very unusual with him of late years; his keen eye had penetrated into the character of the man he had now to deal with. 'Mr. Cross wishes you, sir,' addressing Foster, 'to witness his signature, and take an acknowledgment of his free act and deed.'