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But here was the host at last, bustling up with a napkin over his arm and his wife at his heels.

'Welcome, sir, welcome, madam. This way, sir, madam.' He flung open the door into the coffee-room to reveal the wedding breakfast laid on a snowy cloth. 'The Admiral arrived only five minutes ago, sir, so you must excuse us, sir.'

'Which Admiral?'

'The Honourable Admiral Sir William Cornwallis, sir, commanding the Channel Fleet. 'Is coachman says war's certain, sir.'

Hornblower had been convinced of this ever since, nine days ago, he had read the King's message to Parliament, and witnessed the activities of the press gangs, and had been notified of his appointment to the command of the Hotspur--and (he remembered) had found himself betrothed to Maria. Bonaparte's unscrupulous behaviour on the Continent meant--

'A glass of wine, madam? A glass of wine, sir?'

Hornblower was conscious of Maria's enquiring glance when the innkeeper asked this question. She would not venture to answer until she had ascertained what her new husband thought.