"Ay, ay, sir. And what if you don't come back, sir, like as 'twas six months ago t'other side of Luscombe?"
"Run back to Portsmouth and report to the admiral. But I'll be back, never fear."
He had exchanged his midshipman's hat for a wide-brimmed beaver, and wore a long cloak which made him look more like a magistrate's clerk than a sailor. Thus disguised, he walked over the beach, climbed the cliff, and struck into a path which would lead by a roundabout way into the Luscombe road. It was very unlikely that he would meet any of the Luscombe people in this direction; but Babbage's question reminded him of the unlucky end of a similar errand in the previous autumn, and he smiled somewhat grimly as he remembered his resolve to get even with his captors.
A white mist lay over the land, striking very cold against his face. But it favored his chances of escaping notice if any one should meet him, and he was indeed glad of the obscurity when, in the driver of a gig that passed him, he thought he recognized the bulky form of Mr. Gudgeon. Save for this solitary traveler, the road was quite deserted, and he arrived without adventure at Gumley's cottage.
He looked over the fence. No one was to be seen. Though it was already almost dark, owing to the mist, no light appeared in the cottage window.
"Ahoy O!" he called, without raising his voice, making a trumpet of his hands so that the sound would carry. There was no answer.
He rapped on the fence, calling "Ahoy O!" again. Still there was no reply.
"Here goes!" he said to himself. Stripping off his cloak he folded it and laid it on the nails, then clambered over and hastened to the door.
"I say, Gumley, let me in," he said, rapping.
"Who be 'ee? This bean't no inn."