“It’s all right if you have friends,” I returned. “Master scrivener,” I went on, “do you realize that you have killed a man?” “—and that’s a great pity, isn’t it,” he remarked dryly. He looked at me carefully as though he was trying to read my thoughts. “Have you proof of that, Henri?” he said. “Who else would have done it?” I demanded. “Why, if you put two and two together, it was the landlord who took the dagger. You saw him with your own eyes. You know I fell fast asleep. I was bound hard and fast. You couldn’t take an oath on it, now, could you, Henri?” “Well, no,” I replied. “But I’m sure of this, it was either you or the landlord.” He patted me on the arm. “Now,” he said, “you are talking sense. As far as you are concerned it was the landlord, for I wouldn’t like you to think you were traveling with a murderer.” “Was it you, really?” I asked. “As far as the landlord goes, it was,” he said. “It all depends which side of the fence you are on.” He left me more puzzled than ever. I tried again but with the same result. The same dry smile and the same cunning expression from those knowing eyes greeted me at every turn. “Well,” I said after we had finished our meal. “What are we to do now?” “Play the fox,” he answered. “We must do the contrary to what they think we’ll do.” “They will think that we’ll keep on ahead to get out of the way,” I replied. “Isn’t that natural?” “It is,” he agreed. “You’re a gentleman of fine understanding.” He lowered his head thoughtfully and gathered a few loose stones in his hand. These he threw into the air and caught again as they came down. He broke out into a soft whistle and stamped his foot to the tune. I got up from my seat and stood before him waiting for a move. “Are you going to loiter here till we’re caught, master scrivener?” I asked. “If we’re caught, there’s always a way out,” he remarked. “You have seen already it’s a little knack I have.” With that he arose slowly and brushed the crumbs from his clothes. He took a last draught of water from the stream and gazed about. “We’ll not go far,” he said at length. “We’ll keep in the neighborhood. The worst of it is that we’ve no arms but your dagger.” He went on ahead and I followed. Whatever his thoughts were I cannot tell. But I know that mine were none of the lightest. I was beset with dread. In my imagination I heard the confusion when the body of the guard was found. I saw the consternation of the rest of them. I pictured to myself the fury they were in. That they would not let us off unpunished was all too clear. It was about two hours since I left the inn. By this, no doubt, they were on foot and even in pursuit of us.