“Come this way, sir,” he said, “and your good lady, too.”
They followed him into the inner room of the house, a kind of little kitchen, with a fire burning and a pot over it, and one or two barrels of drink against the wall. A woman was stirring the pot, for it was near dinner-time, and turned round as the strangers came in. It was plainly an inn that was of the poorest kind, and that was used almost entirely by watermen or by travellers who were on their way to cross the ferry.
“The less said the better,” said the man, when he had shut the door. “How can I serve you, sir?”
“We wish to take our horses and ourselves across to Greenhithe,” said Anthony, “and Mrs. Kirke, to whom we are going, bade us make ourselves known to you.”
The man nodded and smiled.
“Yes, sir, that can be managed directly. The ferry is at the other bank now, sir; and I will call it across. Shall we say in half an hour, sir; and, meanwhile, will you and your lady take something?”
Anthony accepted gladly, as the time was getting on, and ordered dinner for the servants too, in the outer room. As the landlord was going to the door, he stopped him.
“Who is that man in the other room?” he asked.
The landlord gave a glance at the door, and came back towards Anthony.
“To tell the truth, sir, I do not know. He is a sailor by appearance, and he knows the talk; but none of the watermen know him; and he seems to do nothing. However, sir, there’s no harm in him that I can see.”