The young lawyer was alarmed when he heard the hour of ten, without
seeing our adventurer, who had been used to be extremely regular in his
economy; and the captain and he supped in profound silence. Finding,
upon inquiry among the servants, that the knight went out abruptly, in
consequence of having received a billet, Tom began to be visited with the
apprehension of a duel, and sat the best part of the night by his uncle,
sweating with the expectation of seeing our hero brought home a
breathless corpse. But no tidings of him arriving, he, about two in the
morning, repaired to his own lodging, resolved to publish a description
of Sir Launcelot in the newspapers, if he should not appear next day.

Crowe did not pass the time without uneasiness. He was extremely
concerned at the thought of some mischief having befallen his friend and
patron; and he was terrified with the apprehensions, that, in case Sir
Launcelot was murdered, his spirit might come and give him notice of his
fate. Now he had an insuperable aversion to all correspondence with the
dead; and taking it for granted that the spirit of his departed friend
could not appear to him except when he should be alone, and a-bed in the
dark, he determined to pass the remainder of the night without going to
bed. For this purpose, his first care was to visit the garret, in which
Timothy Crabshaw lay fast asleep, snoring with his mouth wide open. Him
the captain with difficulty roused, by dint of promising to regale him
with a bowl of rum punch in the kitchen, where the fire, which had been
extinguished, was soon rekindled. The ingredients were fetched from a
public-house in the neighbourhood; for the captain was too proud to use
his interest in the knight's family, especially at these hours, when all
the rest of the servants had retired to their repose; and he and Timothy
drank together until daybreak, the conversation turning upon hobgoblins,
and God's revenge against murder.