Marjorie

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE COMPANY AT THE NOBLE ROSE

  The next morning I was up betimes; indeed, I do not think that I sleptvery much that night, and such sleep as I did have was of a disturbedsort, peopled with wild sea-dreams of all kinds. In my impatience itseemed to me as if the time would never come for me to keep myappointment with Captain Marmaduke; but then, as ever, the hands of theclock went round their appointed circle, and at half-past eleven I wasat my destination. The Noble Rose stood in the market square. It was afine place enough, or seemed so to my eyes then, with its pillaredportal and its great bow-windows at each side, where the gentlemen ofquality loved to sit of fine evenings drinking their ale or theirbrandy, and watching the world go by.

  In the left-hand window as I came up I saw that the Captain was sitting,and as I came up he saw me and beckoned me to come inside.

  With a beating heart I entered the inn hall, and was making for theCaptain's room when a servant barred my way.

  'Now then, where are you posting to?' he asked, with an insolentgood-humour. 'This is a private room, and holds private company.'

  'I know that,' I answered, 'but it holds a friend of mine, whom I wantto see and who wants to see me.'

  The man laughed rudely. 'Very likely,' he said, 'that the company in theDolphin are friends of yours,' and then, as I was still pressingforward, he put out his hand as if to stay me.

  This angered me; and taking the knave by the collar, I swung him asideso briskly that he went staggering across the hall and brought upruefully humped against a settle. Before he could come at me again thedoor of the Dolphin opened, and Captain Marmaduke appeared upon thethreshold. He looked in some astonishment from the rogue scowling on thesettle to me flushed with anger.

  'Heyday, lad,' he said, 'are you having a bout of fisticuffs to keepyour hand in?'

  'This fellow,' I said, 'tried to hinder me from entering yonder room,and I did but push him aside out of my path.'

  'Hum!' said Captain Marmaduke, ''twas a lusty push, and cleared yourcourse, certainly. Well, well, I like you the better, lad, for not beinglightly balked in your business.' And therewith he led me into theDolphin.

  There was a sea-coal fire in the grate, for the day was raw and the glowwelcome. Beside the fire an elderly gentleman sat in an arm-chair. Hehad a black silk skull-cap on his head, and his face was wrinkled andhis eyes were bright, and his face, now turned upon me, showed harsh. Iknew of course that he was Lancelot's other uncle, he who would neversuffer that I should set foot within his gates. Indeed, his face in manypoints resembled that of his brother--as much as an ugly face canresemble a fair one. There was a likeness in the forehead and there wasa likeness in the eyes, which were something of the same china-bluecolour, though of a lighter shade, and with only cold unkindness thereinstead of the genial kindness of the Captain's.

  A man stood on the other side of the open fireplace, a man of aboutforty-five, of something over the middle height and marvellouslywell-built. He was clad in what, though it was not distinctly a seaman'shabit, yet suggested the ways of the sea, and there was a kind offoppishness about his rig which set me wondering, for I was used to aslovenly squalor or a slovenly bravery in the sailors I knew most of.He was a handsome fellow, with dark curling hair and dark eyes, and adark skin that seemed Italian.

  I have heard men say that there is no art to read the mind's complexionin the face. These fellows pretend that your villain is oftensmooth-faced as well as smooth-tongued, and pleases the eye to thebenefit of his mischievous ends. Whereas, on the other hand, many anhonest fellow is damned for a scoundrel because with the nature of anangel he has the mask of a fiend. In which two fancies I have no belief.A rogue is a rogue all the world over, and flies his flag in his facefor those who can read the bunting. He may flatter the light eye or thecold eye, but the warm gaze will find some lurking line by the lip, somewryness of feature, some twist of the devil's fingers in his face, tobetray him. And as for an honest man looking like a rogue, the thing isimpossible. I have seen no small matter of marvels in my time--even, asI think, the great sea serpent himself, though this is not the time andplace to record it--but I have never seen the marvel of a good man witha bad man's face, and it was my first and last impression that the faceof Cornelys Jensen was the face of a rogue.