"What!" said the innkeeper. "Dost thou turn to the beggarly priest whom thou erstwhile didst despise? But it shall not avail thee. It is with me that thou must deal. Knowest thou that I might lose my head for harboring thee, if I give thee not up? But I will hide thee, my little sprat, so that the king himself would not know thee. Come with me."
The little spy, his importance all gone, did as the burly innkeeper bade him, and Hugo and Humphrey were left alone in the kitchen with the servants.
"What do we?" asked Humphrey, in a low tone. "Flee?"
"Nay," replied Hugo. "That were to invite pursuit."
"This innkeeper is a knave," said Humphrey.
"The more reason for caution," answered Hugo.
"I have heard that some priests be great sleepers and great eaters," said Humphrey a few moments later.
"Some priests be," agreed Hugo.
"Then I be one of them. I do now drowse in my chair, and naught but the call to supper shall awake me. And then will I play so busily with my food that no words can escape me save pax vobiscum. This rascal innkeeper learns naught of me."
Presently back came the innkeeper with Walter Skinner in his turn playing scullion. "Here, sir priest," cried the innkeeper. "Here is he who shall serve thee at thy meal."