and I heard him ask Mr. Cary when you would be home, sir."
"Put on my boots again. I'll go and see him."
"Bless you, sir! What, without your sack?"
"Drink it yourself, man."
"But you wouldn't go out again this time o' night on an empty stomach, now?"
"Fill my men's stomachs for them, and never mind mine. It's market-day; is it not? Send out, and see whether Mr. Cary is still in town;" and Amyas strode out, and along the quay to Bridgeland Street, and knocked at Mr. Salterne's door.
Salterne himself opened it, with his usual stern courtesy.
"I saw you coming up the street, sir. I have been expecting this honor from you for some time past. I dreamt of you only last night, and many a night before that too. Welcome, sir, into a lonely house. I trust the good knight, your general, is well."
"The good knight my general is with God who made him, Mr. Salterne."
"Dead, sir?"
"Founded at sea on our way home; and the Delight lost too."
"Humph!" growled Salterne, after a minute's silence. "I had a venture in her, I suppose it's gone. No matter—I can afford it, sir, and more, I trust. And he was three years younger than I! And Draper Heard was buried yesterday, five years younger.—How is it that every one can die, except me? Come in, sir, come in; I have forgotten my manners."
And he led Amyas into his parlor, and called to the apprentices to run one way, and to the cook to run another.
"You must not trouble yourself to get me supper, indeed."
"I must though, sir, and the best of wine too; and old Salterne had a good tap of Alicant in the old time, old time, old time, sir! and you must drink it now, whether he does or not!" and out he bustled.
Amyas sat still, wondering what was coming next, and puzzled at the sudden hilarity of the man, as well as his hospitality, so different from what the innkeeper had led him to expect.
In a minute more one of the apprentices came in to lay the cloth, and Amyas questioned him about his master.
"Thank the Lord that you are come, sir," said the lad.
"Why, then?"
"Because there'll be a chance of us poor fellows getting a little broken meat. We'm half-starved this three months—bread and dripping, bread and dripping, oh dear, sir! And now he's sent out to the inn for chickens, and game, and salads, and all that money can buy, and down in the cellar haling out the best of wine,"—And the lad smacked his lips audibly at the thought.
"Is he out of his mind?"
"I can't tell; he saith as how he must save mun's money now-a-days; for he's got a great venture on hand: but what a be he tell'th no man. They call'th mun 'bread and dripping' now, sir, all town over," said the prentice, confidentially, to Amyas.
