The room was hot, and still save for the buzzing of the flies.  When I looked up I discovered the eyes of all three upon me.

“You may tell your client, Mr. Tucker, that I refuse his offer,” I said.

He got to his feet, and with the customary declaration of humble servitude bowed himself out.

The door was scarce closed on him when the captain had me by the hands.

“What said I, Henry?” he cried.  “Did I not know the lad?”

Mr. Swain did not stir from his seat.  He was still gazing at me with a curious expression.  And then I saw the world in truer colour.  This good Samaritan was not only taking me into his home, but would fight for my rights with the strong brain that had lifted him out of poverty and obscurity.  I stood, humbled before him.

“I would accept your kindness, Mr. Swain,” I said, vainly trying to steady my voice, “but I have the faithful fellow, Banks, who followed me here from England, dependant on me, and Hugo, whom I rescued from my uncle.  I will make over the black to you and you will have him.”

He rose, brushed his eyes with his shirt, and took me by the arm.  “You and the captain dine with me to-day,” says he.  “And as for Banks, I think that can be arranged.  Now I have an estate, I shall need a trained butler, egad.  I have some affairs to keep me in town to-day, Richard.  But we’ll be off for Cordon’s Pride in the morning, and I know of one little girl will be glad to see us.”

We dined out under the apple tree in Gloucester Street.  And the captain argued, in his hopeful way, that Tucker’s visit betrayed a weak point in Grafton’s position.  But the barrister shook his head and said that Grafton was too shrewd a rogue to tender me an estate if he feared me.  It was Mr. Swain’s opinion that the motive of my uncle was to put himself in a good light; and perhaps, he added, there was a little revenge mixed therein, as the Kent estate was the one Mr. Carvel had given him when he cast him off.

A southerly wind was sending great rolls of fog before it as Mr. Swain and I, with Banks, crossed over to Kent Island on the ferry the next morning.  We traversed the island, and were landed by the other ferry on the soil of my native county, Queen Anne’s.  In due time we cantered past Master Dingley’s tavern, the sight of which gave me a sharp pang, for it is there that the by-road turns over the bridge to Carvel Hall and Wilmot House; and force of habit drew my reins to the right across the horse’s neck, so that I swerved into it.  The barrister had no word of comment when I overtook him again.

’Twas about two o’clock when we came to the gate Mr. Swain had erected at the entrance to his place; the land was a little rolling, and partly wooded, like that on the Wye.  But the fields were prodigiously unkempt.  He drew up, and glanced at me.

“You will see there is much to be done with such fallows as these,” said he.  “The lessees from his Lordship were sportsmen rather than husbandmen, and had an antipathy to a constable or a sheriff like a rat to a boar cat.  That is the curse of some of your Eastern Shore gentlemen, especially in Dorchester,” he added; “they get to be fishmongers.”