"Aye, faces have a way of sticking in my memory. I had to conceal you one night when you came inquiring for a fiddler."
"This morning I am come to look for him again."
"His appointment?" asked the landlord.
"Yes."
"Then you may wait contentedly. I never knew him to fail. If he failed I should say he had met his death on the way. Death is the only thing that would stand between his promise and its fulfilment. Come into the inner room. We might get other early visitors, and the door in the wall might be useful."
"And food—what about food at this early hour? I am well-nigh starving."
"I'll see to that, and I take it that a draught of my best ale will take the dust out o' your throat pleasantly. That beast of yours has done a long spell from stable to stable, I warrant."
"From Dorchester," said Crosby.
"And that's a place you're well out of, since Jeffreys must be there by this time."
Crosby nodded, and the landlord drew the ale and busied himself with ordering his guest's breakfast.