Black Milsom had drawn his hat over his eyes before entering the "Jolly
Tar."
The bar of that tavern was sunk considerably below the level of the street, and standing on the uppermost of the steps by which Mr. Wayman's customers descended to his hospitable abode, Black Milsom was able to look across the heads of the crowd to the face of the landlord busy behind his bar.
In that elevated position Black Milsom waited until Dennis Wayman happened to look up and perceive the stranger on the threshold.
As he did so, Thomas Milsom drew the back of his hand rapidly across his mouth, with a gesture that was evidently intended as a signal.
The signal was answered by a nod from Wayman, and then Black Milsom descended the three steps, and pushed his way to the bar.
"Can I have a bed, mate, and a bit of supper?" he asked, in a voice that was carefully disguised.
"Ay, ay, to be sure you can," answered Wayman; "you can have everything that is comfortable and friendly by paying for it. This house is one of the most hospitable places there is—to those that can pay the reckoning."
This rather clumsy joke was received with an applauding guffaw by the sailors and women next the bar.
"If you'll step through that door yonder, you'll find a snug little room, mate," said Dennis Wayman, in the tone which he might have used in speaking to a stranger; "I'll send you a steak and a potato as soon as they can be cooked."
Thomas Milsom nodded. He pushed open the rough wooden door which was so familiar to him, and went into the dingy little den which, in the 'Jolly Tar', was known as the private parlour.