The building was an inn, though a sorry one. Nor, save for the lighted window, did it wear any grace of hospitality, but thrust out a bare shoulder upon the road, and a sign that creaked overhead and look’d for all the world like a gallows. Round this shoulder of the house, and into the main yard (that turn’d churlishly toward the hillside), the wind howled like a beast in pain. I climb’d off Molly, and pressing my hat down on my head, struck a loud rat-tat on the door. Curiously, it opened at once; and I saw a couple of men in the lighted passage. “Heard the mare’s heels on the road, Cap—. Hillo! What in the fiend’s name is this?” Said I: “If you are he that keeps this house, I want two things of you—first, a civil tongue, and next a bed.” “Ye’ll get neither, then.” “Your sign says that you keep an inn.” “Aye—the ‘Three Cups’: but we’re full.” “Your manner of speech proves that to be a lie.” I liked the fellow’s voice so little that ’tis odds I would have re-mounted Molly and ridden away; but at this instant there floated down the stairs and out through the drink-smelling passage a sound that made me jump. ’Twas a girl’s voice singing—— “Hey nonni—nonni—no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is’t not fine to laugh and sing When the bells of death do ring——” There was no doubt upon it. The voice belonged to the young gentlewoman I had met at Hungerford. I turned sharply toward the landlord, and was met by another surprise. The second man, that till now had stood well back in the shadow, was peering forward, and devouring Molly with his gaze. ’Twas hard to read his features, but then and there I would have wagered my life he was no other than Luke Settle’s comrade, Black Dick. My mind was made up. “I’ll not ride a step further, to-night,” said I. “Then bide there and freeze,” answer’d the landlord. He was for slamming the door in my face, when the other caught him by the arm and, pulling him a little back, whisper’d a word or two. I guess’d what this meant, but resolved not to draw back; and presently the landlord’s voice began again, betwixt surly and polite—— “Have ye too high a stomach to lie on straw?” “Oho!” thought I to myself, “then I am to be kept for the mare’s sake, but not admitted to the house:” and said aloud that I could put up with a straw bed. “Because there’s the stable loft at your service. As ye hear” (and in fact the singing still went on, only now I heard a man’s voice joining in the catch) “our house is full of company. But straw is clean bedding, and the mare I’ll help to put in stall.” “Agreed,” I said, “on one condition—that you send out a maid to me with a cup of mulled sack: for this cold eats me alive.”