I must go on my travels
again. Well, such was my intention; the only difference is, that I go
with an empty purse instead of a full one. Who'd have thought the old dog
would ha' been such an unconscionable time dying!"
"Gout or no gout, he's good for another ten year," growled the innkeeper.
"Well, I'll give him five. And, with the boy out of the way, maybe I'll
come to my own even yet. The young puppy!"
At this moment Diggle's face was by no means pleasant to look upon.
"Fate has always had a grudge against me, Job. In the old days, I bethink
me, 'twas I that was always found out. You had many an escape."
"Till the last. But I've come out of this well." He chuckled. "To think
what a fool blood makes of a man! Squire winna touch me, 'cause of you.
But it must gall him; ay, it must gall him."
"I--list!" said Diggle suddenly. "There are footsteps again. Is it Burke
coming back? The door's open, Job."
The innkeeper went to the door and peered into the dark. A slight figure
came up at that moment--a boy, with a bundle in his hand.
"Is that you, Grinsell? Is Mr. Diggle in?"
"Come in, my friend," said Diggle, hastening to the door. "We were just
talking of you. Come in; 'tis a late hour; si vespertinus subito--you
remember old Horace? True, we haven't a hen to baste with Falernian for
you, but sure friend Job can find a wedge of Cheshire and a mug of ale.
Come in."
And Desmond went into the inn.
Chapter 6: In which the reader becomes acquainted with William Bulger and
other sailor men; and our hero as a squire of dames acquits himself with
credit.
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