The hut was very small and was made of wattle and daub. A faint line of smoke was coming from a hole in the roof. The knock with the end of Humphrey's stick was a vigorous one. Nevertheless it went so long without answer that he knocked again, and this time with better success. The door opened slowly a little way, and through the aperture thus made an old and withered face looked out.
"What wilt thou?" asked a cracked, high voice.
"Entrance and shelter for the night," replied Humphrey, promptly and concisely.
The door opened a little wider and the man within stepping outside, his person was revealed. He was of medium height and spare, and he wore a long gray tunic of wool reaching to his knees. Beneath this garment his lean legs were bare, while on his feet he wore shoes of skin which reached to the ankle, and which were secured by thongs. Such as he Hugo and Humphrey had often seen, but never before a face like his, in which craftiness and credulity were strangely mingled. For several minutes he stood there, first scrutinizing Humphrey and then Hugo.
At last Humphrey grew impatient. "Do we come in, or do we stay out?" he demanded.
"Why, that I hardly know," was the slow answer. "There be many rogues about; some in priests' robes and some not."
"Yea, verily," responded Humphrey, fervently; "but we be not of the number. Pax vobiscum," he added, hastily. "I had well nigh forgot that," he said in an aside to Hugo.
But the old man's ears were keen, and he caught the aside meant for Hugo's ears alone. "Thou be but a sorry priest to forget thy pax vobiscum," he said with a crafty look. "Perchance thou art no priest," he added, coming closer and peering into Humphrey's face.
He looked so long that Humphrey again grew impatient. "What seest thou on my face?" he asked.
"Why, I do see a mole on thy nose. It is a very small one, and of scant size, but because thou hast it thou mayest come down from thy horse, thou and the lad with thee, and I will give thee lodging for the night."