"It's me, Gumley—Jack Hardy, you know."
"Tell that to the marines. Mr. Hardy's far away. Get along with 'ee."
"Don't be a jackass, Gumley. Open the door. Comely will know me if you don't."
"'Ware dog, then, and if his teeth jine in your legs 'tis your own doing, whoever ye be!"
There was a rattling of the bolts. The door was opened. The bulldog rushed out, and with a growl of pleasure began to rub his nose against Jack's trousers.
"There you are, you see," he said, stepping into the cottage, to find Gumley standing on guard with a blunderbuss.
"Well, sir, this is a rare surprise. I seemed to know your voice, but thought for sure it must be your ghost. Never did I expect to see you no more in this world, sir, and right glad I be."
"So am I, Gumley. But fasten up again, and light your lamp. I want to talk to you."
"But how did ye escape, sir?" asked Gumley, as he shot the bolt and led the way to his kitchen.
"'Tis too long a story to tell you now. Another time. But why, man, what's the matter with you? You look very down in the mouth."