"Eight, master, right, I am coming," the man answered, suddenly rousing himself; and opening the lower half of the door, he came heavily out. "At your service," he said. "But we have little company."
"The times are bad?"
"Ay, they looked a bit better six months back."
"But nothing came of it?"
"No, worse luck."
"And all that is called for now--is common Hollands, I suppose?"
The fellow grinned. "Right," he said. "You have the hang of it, master."
My companion slid to the ground, and began to remove his pistols and saddlebag. "Still you have some guests, I suppose?" he said.
"Ay, one," the man answered, slowly, and I thought, reluctantly.
"Is he, by any chance, a man of the name of--but never mind his name," Smith said. "Is he a surgeon?"