And then, almost at the last shiver, their luck turned. Looming up out of the darkness was another unmistakable inn, this time not in a village but standing alone on the high road. A delectable inn, it seemed, set back just a little from the highway and with—oh, ineffable joy!—a brilliantly lighted upper window. Hope once more bubbling up in their chilled bosoms, the adventurers disembarked. Mr. Priestley’s very first knock brought hurrying footsteps. “Who—who’s there?” asked a somewhat quavering feminine voice from inside. Mr. Priestley was so delighted to hear tones of anxiety rather than abuse that he bestowed on the hand which he was already prudently holding, an involuntary squeeze. The hand squeezed back. Its owner had sensed beautiful warmth and delectable food on the farther side of that door and she was ready to squeeze anything. The thought of dry warmth and food was already making Laura feel her own girl again. “Friends!” said Mr. Priestley briskly. “I mean, travellers. Can you give us something to eat, and———” He checked himself. It might be suspicious to touch upon the subject of files quite so soon, “—and drink,” he amended. There was the sound of bars unbolted and creaking locks and the door swung open. Framed in the doorway against a background of warm glowing red was a small woman of late middle-age, her features beaming joyous welcome. “Well, there!” said the small woman. “And I thought it might be robbers. What with my husband being away and me alone in the house, as you might say, Annie not counting one way or the other, I was just beginning to get that scared. Couldn’t bring myself to go to bed; I couldn’t! And then when you knocked, ‘They’ve come!’ I said to meself. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it mightn’t be, after all. P’raps I’d better see.’ But I was trembling like a leaf as I came down the stairs, and then——” “Er—did you say your husband is away?” Mr. Priestley broke in upon this harangue. Somehow, it made him feel very happy to learn that the small woman’s probably large husband was away. And Annie, it appeared, did not count one way or the other. “Yes, that he is,” replied the small woman volubly. “First time he’s slep’ away from me for nigh on fifteen years, but business is business, he said, and—— But what am I doing, keeping you on the doorstep? Come in, sir, you and your lady. And a blessing it is to see you, I _will_ say. I like a man in the house at nights, I do. You’ll be wanting a bedroom, of course. Well, there’s one all ready. Clean sheets and pillow-cases on this morning, I put, just in case. One never knows, does one? And some food, you said? Well, there’s only——” “We shan’t want—er—a bedroom,” Mr. Priestley interrupted again, “We shall be going on again. We just want some food—anything, it doesn’t matter what—in a private sitting-room, and—er—a file. Our car has something wrong with it,” explained Mr. Priestley earnestly, “and we’ve run out of—I mean, we want a file. Have you got a file?”