Prudy, anticipating his necessity, caught them up, dived them into the blaze, and drawing out a blazing end of stick, held it over the pipe while he sucked away.
During this pause a heavy step was heard in the passage.

The door was pushed open, and a tall man, in dripping cloak and muddy boots, stalked into the room.
It was the man they had been discussing.
"A dirty night, friends, and a cold ride from Plymouth." He shook the water out of his hat over the sanded floor.

"I'll take a pull at something hot, if you please." Every one looked at him.

Prudy, forgetting what she was about, waved the hot brand to and fro under Old Zeb's nose, stinging his eyes with smoke.

Between confusion and suffocation, his face was a study.
"You seem astonished, all of you.