Another general shiver attested the force of this realistic touch.
“But two short leagues hence lieth his haunt,” went on Jacques, “and ill it is for us, for none can pass that way by night without meeting him, and if they do——”
A gloomy shake of his head completed the sentence.
“Nay, if it be so,” said the pedlar, with a tremor that he made no attempt to disguise, “though I had thought to sup at St. Barnabé to-night, I will e’en bide here till morn.”
“Right, lad,” cried Pierre. “He who would sup with the Evil One must have a long spoon, and mad indeed must he be who would brave the phantom on his own ground after dark! May God send us speedy deliverance from him, for in man is no help. What man will dare face what is not mortal?”
A deep voice behind the startled group answered, “I will!”
CHAPTER XVIII
A Phantom Warrior
All turned round with a start, and saw the helmeted head of a knight in full armour leaning out of the window just above them.
This knight had been, ever since he entered the little inn an hour before, an object of much curiosity and some fear to its whole household. He was sheathed in black armour from head to foot; he kept his visor closed, and through its bars the few words that he spoke sounded strangely hollow and grim; and there was about the whole man something so weird and gloomy and overawing that the host was moved to remark to his equally impressed wife that, had not the stranger crossed himself and murmured a prayer as he entered, and paid his reckoning in advance, he would certainly have taken him for the dreaded “Phantom Knight” himself!
Ere any of the astounded peasants could reply, the stranger went on—