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Mr Lawrence was a quality guest, and being a frequenter, had a place of his own, which was on the left hand of the landlord; thus he got the fish of his choice, the cut of meat he liked best, the best draught of ale the house could[Pg 127] supply, and this ordinary was too useful to him to allow him to be in debt to it. "Then," said Frank, moistening his dry lips, "you have the will, Mr. Maddoc?" "Who?".

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Lucy touched the keys. "May I ask," said he, flourishing the letter, "how it is that you, sir, being fully admitted by the perusal of this document into the base plot Mr Lawrence was hatching, should have chosen to keep the intention to yourself, when by the revelation of this letter you could have put it out of Mr Lawrence's power to carry off my child." He started as though he was confronted by something totally different from the lady he expected to see. In truth Mr Lawrence had never seen Lucy Acton with her hair down. Always when they met her hair had been dressed in the prevailing mode, with a little fringing or shadowing of wisps on her fair brow and curls on the beautiful outlines of her shoulders. Whether her hair had become disengaged from its fastenings in the night, or whether the deck mattress had done half and she with her fingers had let fall the rest, matters not; she was before him, clothed all about her back and breast with her abundance of soft dark hair. A thrill of alarm gripped Billy's heart-strings. Where had Croaker disappeared to? What if old Scroggie's ghost had grabbed him and cast over him the cloak of invisibility? Then in all likelihood he would be the next to feel that damp, clutching shroud..