my bearings. 'I see a wine shop open across the road, chevalier--go in and call for a flask and await me,' he answered rapidly. I nodded, and bidding him begone in a loud tone, swaggered across the street, and entering the den--it could be called by no other name--shouted for a litre of Beaugency, and flung myself down on a rough stool with a clatter of my sword and a great showing of the pistol butts that stuck out from my belt. The cabaret had just opened, but early as I was I was not the first customer, for a man was sitting half-asleep and half-drunk on one of the foul-looking benches, and as I called for my wine, he rose up, muttering, 'Beaugency! He wants Beaugency--there is none here,' he went on in a maudlin manner, turning to me. 'At the Toison d'Or----' I almost started at the words; but the landlord, whose face appeared from behind a cask at my shout, and whose countenance now showed the utmost anger at his old client's speech, suddenly seized him by the neck and hustled him from the room--'The drunken knave!' he said with a great oath, 'to say that I kept no Beaugency--here, captain,' and he handed me a litre, with a much-stained glass, 'here is Beaugency that comes from More's own cellars,' and he looked knowingly at me. Not wishing to hold converse with the fellow, I filled the glass, and then, flinging him a crown, bade him drink the rest of the bottle for good luck. The scoundrel drank it there and then, and as soon as he had done so returned to the charge. 'It is good wine--eh, captain?' 'It is,' I answered drily; but he was not to be denied. 'Monsieur is out early, I see.' 'Monsieur is out late, you mean,' I made answer, playing my part, and longing for Pantin to return. 'Ho! ho!' he roared; 'a good joke--captain, I do not know you, but tell me your name, and, curse me, if I do not drink your health in Arbois the day you ride to Montfaucon.' 'You will know my name soon enough,' I answered, humouring the fellow, 'and I promise to send you the Arbois the day I ride there. I may tell you that it was to the Toison d'Or I was recommended by my friends; but your Beaugency and your company are so good _compere_ that I shall make this my house of call during my stay in the Faubourg St. Martin.' 'Damn the Toison d'Or,' he exclaimed, 'and you are a good fellow. Let me warn you in turn that the Toison d'Or is no longer safe.' 'What do you mean?' I asked, leaning forwards. 'For you, and for me, monsieur.' 'Ah--my luck is good as your wine,' and at that moment I caught sight of Pantin. 'There is another crown to drink to our friendship, and mind you keep as good a flask for me against my return at noon--_au revoir!_ I have a business at my lodging.'