"I hain't brought Doubledick back wi' me," he said. "For why? 'Cos he warn't theer!"
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
A Bargain with the Revenue
About eight o'clock that same evening, while Tonkin was still conversing with his intimates in the parlour of the Five Pilchards, a horseman rode up to the house occupied by Mr. Polwhele on the south cliff. His seat was not that of an accomplished equestrian, and his manner of dismounting would have given some anxiety to anyone who had a regard for him. The long cloak he wore, with the collar turned up almost to the eyes, incommoded his legs, and only by clutching at his patient steed's mane did he avoid a fall.
The house stood alone, and its solitary situation was a source of satisfaction to the traveller. A light within, and a full moon without, gave him a reasonable assurance that the riding-officer was at home. Accordingly he hitched the bridle to a hook placed for that purpose in the wall beside the door, and knocked. Mr. Polwhele was a bachelor, and it happened that the woman who was housekeeper, cook, and housemaid in one, had gone into the village, so that he opened the door himself.
"Well?" he said, peering at the close-wrapped figure that stood on the threshold.
"'Tis I, Maister Polwhele," said the man, at the same time turning down his collar.
"Doubledick!" exclaimed the astonished officer. "Well, of all the——! You'd be safer in France, my man."
"Iss, maybe; but I be come home, and I'd like a word with 'ee, Maister."
"Well, there's no warrant out for your arrest, so I suppose you——; yes, come in. I don't understand this at all."