They had not more than two miles to go before they reached the inn Sir Richard had seen from the window of the coach. It was a very small hostelry, with a weather-beaten sign creaking on its chains, a thatched roof, and only one parlour, besides the common tap-room.
The landlord, upon hearing of the breakdown of the stage-coach, accepted the travellers’ unconventional arrival without surprise. It was growing dark by this time, and it was not until Sir Richard had stepped into the inn, and stood in the light of a hanging lamp, that the landlord was able to obtain a clear view of him. Sir Richard had chosen for the journey a plain coat and serviceable breeches, but the cut of the blue cloth, the high polish on his top-boots, the very style of his cravat, and the superfluity of capes on his drab over-coat all proclaimed so unmistakably the gentleman of fashion that the landlord was obviously taken aback, and looked from him to Pen with considerable suspicion.
“I shall require a bedroom for myself, and another for my nephew,” said Sir Richard. “Also some supper.”
“Yes, sir. Did your honour say you was travelling on the Bristol-stage?” asked the landlord incredulously.
“Yes,” said Sir Richard raising his brows. “I did say so. Have you any objection?”
“Oh no, sir! no, I’m sure!” replied the landlord hastily. “Your honour said supper! I’m afraid we—we aren’t in the habit of entertaining the Quality, but if your honour would condescend to a dish of ham and eggs, or maybe a slice of cold pork, I’ll see to it on the instant!”
Sir Richard having graciously approved the ham and eggs, the landlord bowed him into the stuffy little parlour, and promised to have the only two guest-chambers the inn possessed immediately prepared. Pen, directing a conspiratorial look at Sir Richard, elected to follow the portmanteau and the cloak-bag upstairs. When she reappeared a slatternly maid-servant had spread supper on the table in the parlour, and Sir Richard had succeeded in forcing open two of its tiny windows. He turned, as Pen came in, and asked: “What in heaven’s name have you been doing all this time? I began to think you had deserted me.”
“Desert you! Of course I wouldn’t do anything so silly! The thing was, I could see the landlord had noticed your clothes, so I thought of a famous tale to tell him. That’s why I went off with him. I knew he would try to discover from me why you were travelling on the stage-coach.”
“And did he?”
“Yes, and I told him that you had had reverses on “Change and had fallen on evil times,” said Pen, drawing up her chair to the table.