In the present instance, Mr. Dry had received immediate information that two strangers had appeared at the "Rose of Sharon" between eight and nine, and he had hastened up from Longsoaken without loss of time; but he had spent nearly half-an-hour with the landlord in an inner chamber, inquiring into all the particulars of their appearance and demeanour. Now, the landlord had lost more than one good customer in consequence of the unpleasant interference of his respected neighbour, who had occasionally caused some of the most expensive visiters at his house to be committed as "malignants;" but as he dared not show any resistance or make any remonstrance to a person so high in authority as Master Dry, of Longsoaken, his only course was to defend the characters of his guests as far as was safe. But the worthy host was a timid man, and never ventured to pronounce a decided opinion in the presence of his betters.
In answer, therefore, to the questions now addressed to him, he replied, "Oh dear, no, worshipful sir! That is to say--for one cannot be certain of anything in this ungodly world--they do not look like it at all. Malignants are always gay in their apparel, and the gentleman is dressed just like yourself, all in black. He has got a Geneva skullcap, too, I should not wonder if he were a gifted man like yourself."
"That may be a mere disguise," said Mr. Dry.
"Then, malignants are always roystering blades," continued the landlord; "calling for all manner of things, beginning with wine, and ending with strong waters. Now, these good people have nought but beef and ale; though, doubtless, as all godly men may do for the comfort of the inner man, they will take something more warming before they go; but, as yet, one tankard of ale is all they have had."
"That looks well," said Mr. Dry, oracularly; "not that I would condemn any man for using creature comforts in moderation, according to his necessity. Some men's complexion, if of a cold and melancholy nature, does require such helps. I myself am driven to it--but what more, my friend? Are they grave in their discourse?"
"As heart could wish," replied the landlord. "I should take them rather for the most pious and humble----"
"I will see them myself," interrupted Dry, who began to suspect the landlord. "It is not easy to deceive my eyes."
But the worthy host contrived to detain his worshipful fellow-townsman for some five minutes longer, in order that the guests might finish their meal in peace, by opening a conversation relative to the return of "the poor silly girl, Arrah Neil," as he called her, in regard to whom he had shrewd suspicions that Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, entertained sentiments not quite so rigid as those which his words in the morning might seem to imply.
On this part of their conversation, however, I shall not dwell, as it would be neither very instructive nor very amusing, but will return once more to the parlour of the inn which Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, entered with a staid and stately step, his two eyes bent upon the ground, as if he were in deep meditation. The younger of the two guests in the parlour lolled in his chair and bit his lip. The elder considered Mr. Dry attentively, but suffered him to enter the room and approach the table without saying a word. Neither did he make any movement of limb or feature, but remained cold, stiff, and dry, as if his limbs and his countenance were made of wood. Mr. Dry, however, always recollected that he was a man in authority; and great success in life, where there is any weakness of character, is sure to produce a confident self-importance, very comfortable to the possessor thereof, though not particularly agreeable to his friends and companions.
As neither of the others uttered a word, then, he began the conversation himself without farther ado.