'No doubt, captain; and you soldiers are lions.'
'Aunty is a Jenny Wren!'
'And Mab is a white peacock,' said Miss Whichello, with a nod.
'Captain Pendle, protect me,' laughed Miss Arden. 'I decline to be called a peacock.'
'You are a golden bird of paradise, Miss Arden.'
'Ah, that is a pretty compliment, Captain Pendle. Thank you!'
While George laughed, Cargrim, rather tired of these zoological comparisons, strove to change the subject by an allusion to the adventure of the previous night. 'The man who attacked you was certainly a wolf,' he said decisively.
'Who was the man?' asked Miss Whichello, carefully weighing herself some cheese.
'Some tramp who had been in the wars,' replied George, carelessly; 'a discharged soldier, I daresay. At least, he had a long red scar on his villainous-looking face. I saw it in the moonlight, marking him as with the brand of Cain.'
'A scar!' repeated Miss Whichello, in so altered a tone that Cargrim stared at her, and hastened to explain further, so as to learn, if possible, the meaning of her strange look.