Gunn placed a hand, which lacked two fingers, on his breast, and bowed again.
"One of your father's oldest friends," he said smoothly; "and fallen on evil days; I'm sure your gentle heart will be pleased to hear that your good father has requested me—for a time—to make his house my home."
"Any friend of my father's is welcome to me, sir," said the girl, coldly. She looked from the innkeeper to his odd-looking guest, and conscious of something strained in the air, gave him a little bow and quitted the room.
"You insist upon staying, then?" said Mullet, after a pause.
"More than ever," replied Gunn, with a leer toward the door. "Why, you don't think I'm afraid, Captain? You should know me better than that."
"Life is sweet," said the other.
"Ay," assented Gunn, "so sweet that you will share things with me to keep it."
"No," said the other, with great calm. "I am man enough to have a better reason."