"Pray Heaven my neighbour speedily drink himself drunk," thought Dick, withdrawing himself further into the chimney-corner.
The stranger shivered, coughed, grumbled out a few more oaths in bad Spanish, and hitching his chair nearer to the fire he lifted the tankard the woman of the house brought to him, and nodded over at Richard.
"Here's to thy health, friend, and our better acquaintance!"
Richard answered civilly, and pulling his hat over his eyes leaned back as one disposed to sleep; but the new-comer seemed to have no fancy for solitary potations.
"Take a pull at my ale, friend," he hallooed, pushing the steaming mixture under Dick's nose. "It's rare stingo, 'schrecklich gut' as the Dutchmen say, though it be a slut that brewed it. Folks in this country want something to warm their gizzards!"
The hostess who brought Dick's bowl of onion broth at this moment destroyed his chance of feigning sleep, and he had to resign himself to endure his companion's conversation which flowed on, garnished with oaths and cant phrases in three or four different languages, without any interruption, till by an unguarded movement Richard exposed his face to the light of the fire, and the stranger stared a moment, and then sprang up exclaiming, "Body o' me if it be not Measter Dick himself!"
Richard scanned the other's features with surprise and annoyance.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," he answered, stiffly.
"Whoy, Measter Dick, you ain't forgot me! But 'tis little wonder; time flies, time flies, and I bean't so slim as I was once. But you'll mind my name, Hodge Astbury from Penkull, that rode at the tail of your nag all the way from Hurst Castle to London, and many a day after."
"Can it be Astbury!" cried Richard, with a warmer feeling of pleasure than he could have imagined possible at finding a link with his old past in the drunken ruffian who claimed his acquaintance.