There were quite a few horses tied at the rails, splendid and shiny blooded mounts, all sound "hundred guinea" horses, with bright saddle leather and clean pads. A backgammon game was proceeding at a table without the welcoming double doors, in the shade of the trees, and a lively sound of merrymaking coming from inside.

Alan and Cony entered, handing their hats to a bobbing "abi-gail" in homespun and a pure white apron and mobcap. The public room was crowded with gentlemen gathered around a large table, all standing and laughing. One of them Alan recognized, and went to his side.

"Governour Chiswick!" he called. "The very fellow I was looking for!"

"Good God, here already?" Governour said, spinning to take his hand and thump him on the back. "We didn't expect you until the end of the week at the earliest! By Christ, but you're looking fit an' full of cream! The Chinee and the Hindoos couldn't put you off your feed, hey?"

"And I see that married life agrees with your digestion," Alan joshed him, giving him a slight poke in the breadbasket. Governour Chiswick, the whip-lean and dour eldest Chiswick he had met at Yorktown, was now becoming a stout, apple-cheeked fellow, a settled and extremely well-married junior squire. Quite a change from the officer of a North Carolina volunteer regiment, and deadly with a Ferguson rifle or sword. Or a pistol, Alan remembered; this was the bloodthirsty, blackhearted devil who'd gut-shot the informer that had gotten half his surviving company killed just before they'd escaped, so he could linger in agony for days. To look at him now, you'd never catch an inkling of that.

"It does, indeed," Governour grinned wryly. "Come here, Alan, and meet the lads. And Will Cony, still tailing along with this rogue of ours? Well, step forward and take a stoup of ale with us. Good to see you, Alan. And you, as well, Cony."

"Thankee, sir," Cony replied, as someone shoved a stone tankard into his paws. He stayed long enough for introductions, then faded off to the counter, apart from "the quality," to have a jaw with the publican, and his pretty serving wench.