Barnaby Rudge | Page 7

that as they twinkled and glistened in
the light of the fire, which shone too in his bright shoe-buckles, he
seemed all eyes from head to foot, and to be gazing with every one of
them at the unknown customer. No wonder that a man should grow
restless under such an inspection as this, to say nothing of the eyes
belonging to short Tom Cobb the general chandler and post-office
keeper, and long Phil Parkes the ranger, both of whom, infected by the
example of their companions, regarded him of the flapped hat no less
attentively.
The stranger became restless; perhaps from being exposed to this
raking fire of eyes, perhaps from the nature of his previous
meditations--most probably from the latter cause, for as he changed his
position and looked hastily round, he started to find himself the object
of such keen regard, and darted an angry and suspicious glance at the
fireside group. It had the effect of immediately diverting all eyes to the
chimney, except those of John Willet, who finding himself as it were,
caught in the fact, and not being (as has been already observed) of a
very ready nature, remained staring at his guest in a particularly
awkward and disconcerted manner.
'Well?' said the stranger.
Well. There was not much in well. It was not a long speech. 'I thought
you gave an order,' said the landlord, after a pause of two or three
minutes for consideration.
The stranger took off his hat, and disclosed the hard features of a man
of sixty or thereabouts, much weatherbeaten and worn by time, and the
naturally harsh expression of which was not improved by a dark
handkerchief which was bound tightly round his head, and, while it
served the purpose of a wig, shaded his forehead, and almost hid his
eyebrows. If it were intended to conceal or divert attention from a deep
gash, now healed into an ugly seam, which when it was first inflicted
must have laid bare his cheekbone, the object was but indifferently
attained, for it could scarcely fail to be noted at a glance. His

complexion was of a cadaverous hue, and he had a grizzly jagged beard
of some three weeks' date. Such was the figure (very meanly and
poorly clad) that now rose from the seat, and stalking across the room
sat down in a corner of the chimney, which the politeness or fears of
the little clerk very readily assigned to him.
'A highwayman!' whispered Tom Cobb to Parkes the ranger.
'Do you suppose highwaymen don't dress handsomer than that?' replied
Parkes. 'It's a better business than you think for, Tom, and highwaymen
don't need or use to be shabby, take my word for it.'
Meanwhile the subject of their speculations had done due honour to the
house by calling for some drink, which was promptly supplied by the
landlord's son Joe, a broad-shouldered strapping young fellow of
twenty, whom it pleased his father still to consider a little boy, and to
treat accordingly. Stretching out his hands to warm them by the blazing
fire, the man turned his head towards the company, and after running
his eye sharply over them, said in a voice well suited to his appearance:
'What house is that which stands a mile or so from here?'
'Public-house?' said the landlord, with his usual deliberation.
'Public-house, father!' exclaimed Joe, 'where's the public-house within a
mile or so of the Maypole? He means the great house--the
Warren--naturally and of course. The old red brick house, sir, that
stands in its own grounds--?'
'Aye,' said the stranger.
'And that fifteen or twenty years ago stood in a park five times as broad,
which with other and richer property has bit by bit changed hands and
dwindled away--more's the pity!' pursued the young man.
'Maybe,' was the reply. 'But my question related to the owner. What it
has been I don't care to know, and what it is I can see for myself.'

The heir-apparent to the Maypole pressed his finger on his lips, and
glancing at the young gentleman already noticed, who had changed his
attitude when the house was first mentioned, replied in a lower tone:
'The owner's name is Haredale, Mr Geoffrey Haredale, and'--again he
glanced in the same direction as before--'and a worthy gentleman
too--hem!'
Paying as little regard to this admonitory cough, as to the significant
gesture that had preceded it, the stranger pursued his questioning.
'I turned out of my way coming here, and took the footpath that crosses
the grounds. Who was the young lady that I saw entering a carriage?
His daughter?'
'Why, how should I know, honest man?' replied Joe, contriving in the
course of some arrangements about the hearth, to advance close to his
questioner and pluck him