“Fortune of war,” he said, with affected lightness. “We must make the best of it. And now, M. de Tavernay,” he added, rising, “you will find your horse awaiting you outside yonder door, as fresh as when you started with him from Tours. I have secured another in a less peremptory way than I found necessary to adopt with you. It is foolhardy for me to linger here. I must push on at once. But you may be weary, you may wish to avoid the heat of the day; you may, in a word, prefer to continue your journey alone and at your leisure. If so, farewell; but if you are ready to go on, I assure you that I shall be very glad of your company.” “Thank you, monsieur,” I said, my decision taken on the instant. “I am quite ready to go.” “Good! come then,” and throwing a gold-piece on the table he started toward the door. Not until that instant did I remember that the inn must have a keeper, and that the keeper would have ears, which he had no doubt kept wide open during all this talk. I looked around for him, and as though guessing my thought, he shambled slowly forward from a dark corner--as ill-favored a villain as I ever saw. “Is there anything else monsieur wishes?” he asked, looking at me with a glance so venomous that I recoiled as though a snake had struck at me. “No,” I stammered, “except to tell you that there is your money.” He picked up the coin without a word and spun it in his hand, while I hastened after my companion, anxious to escape from that sinister place into the clear day. I found him awaiting me just outside the door. “Our horses will be here in a moment,” he said. “I have sent for them.” “I shall breathe more freely when I am in the saddle and well away from here,” I answered. “There is a fellow back yonder who is longing to assassinate both of us.” “Our host?” and he laughed lightly. “I noticed him. He is like all the others--they would all jump to assassinate us, if they dared.” “This one looked particularly wolfish.” “They are all wolfish, and like the wolf arrant cowards, save when they hunt in pack.” “But if he overheard?” “Perhaps we were a little indiscreet,” he agreed, sober for an instant. “But one peril more or less--what does it matter?” he added, with a shrug. “Here are the horses. Permit me to return you yours, with apologies and thanks.” “I am rejoiced to get him back,” I said, patting his nose. “The pleasure seems to be mutual,” observed my companion; and indeed there was no mistaking the joy in the eyes of my old friend. “You would better look over your belongings,” he added. “There are thieves about.” But I found that nothing had been disturbed. My pistols were in their holsters, and my portmanteau was still strapped behind the saddle. “Then let us be off,” said M. de Favras.