CHAPTER III.
THE CRY IN THE NIGHT "You'd be having company last night, sir ?" Mrs.Hollings remarked inquisitively.

Mrs.Hollings was an elderly widow, who devoted two hours of her morning to cleaning my rooms and preparing my breakfast.
"Some friends did call," I answered, pouring out the coffee.
"Friends! Good Samaritans I should call 'em," Mrs.Hollings declared, "if so be as they left all the things I found here this morning.

Why, there's a whole chicken, to say nothing of tongue and biscuits, and butter, and relishes, and savouries, the names of which isn't often heard in this part of the world.

There's wine, too, with gold paper round the top, champagne wine, I do believe." "Is the tide up this morning ?" I asked.
"None to speak of," Mrs.Hollings answered, "though the road's been washed dry, and the creeks are brimming.

I've scarcely set foot in the village this morning, but they're all a-talking about the soldier gentleman the Duke brought down to the village hall last night.