Then he galloped on, quite as airily as he had come.
"Who vas dot big-feelin' rooster?" Fritz asked, when John re-entered the tavern.
"That? Why, that's Honorable Granby Greyville," the fat man replied—"the rich haristocrat who owns most of the land hereabouts. A right big-feeling man, too, as you say."
"Granby Greyville, eh?" Fritz commented, under his breath. "Vel, dot ish funny. I thought sure dot was Captain Gregg, der smuggler, und I don'd vas so much foolished apoud it yet. I'll pet a half-dollar I find oud somedings pefore I leave der blace."
Resolved to remain a few days in the village for the purpose of prospecting, Fritz made himself at home about the hotel.
One suspicion after another was gradually occurring to him, and he was not slow to give them a thorough consideration prior to putting them to test.
Of all things, he was desirous of attending the "jollification," as the horseman had termed it, with a view of seeing the countess, who, he learned, had lately arrived from England, in her own steamship, for a few weeks' stay upon the Atlantic coast, and a visit to her prospective husband, Greyville.
During the afternoon a man entered the tavern, who evidently had "blood in his eye." His whole appearance seemed to indicate that he was anxious to have a fight with some one, and was not particular who it was.
He was a large, raw-boned fellow, with great muscular development; his face was large, with a bristling stubble of black beard upon the lower portion; his eyes were dark and wild, his hair silvered with broad streaks of white, and worn in a shaggy, unkempt mass.
His mouth was large, and his teeth projected beyond his lips, in a horrible manner.