As they drew near the inn they made a detour, and, entering the copse from the farther side, tied up their horses and came through the trees. Dusk had already fallen, and as the sky was overcast the evening was blacker than is usual at the time of year. The inn was in darkness except for a light in the kitchen. Followed by Max, Harry emerged from the copse, crossed the road, and rapped smartly on the closed door. It was opened almost immediately by the landlord himself, who, seeing two men on foot, and not recognizing Harry in the darkness, said:
"Come in, gentlemen. What are your commands? I will bring a light in a moment."
Returning with a candle, he now saw who the first of his visitors was, and looked very uncomfortable.
"I have very little in the house, Excellency——" he began deprecatingly. Harry cut him short.
"Pray don't be distressed. I left hurriedly—you remember me, landlord?—and we have a little reckoning to make together. It need not take long.—Max, stand at the door, and see that our good host and I are not disturbed.—Now, landlord, we will have a little talk." The kitchen door was open and the room empty. "This will do quite well; I repeat, we shall not remain long."
The man looked relieved, Harry thought; but he said nothing, merely brushing a chair for his visitor. Harry sat down, removed his hat, and leant back, stretching his legs for comfort after his ride.
"Yes, landlord, I left your house somewhat hurriedly, I fear, and at an unseemly hour."
The man shot a quick glance at him; but, having now had time to collect his wits, assumed an air of friendly concern, and began to speak with great volubility.
"The noble Herr had indeed a miraculous escape. Your excellency will remember—I told you of the marauders. They are dangerous knaves; they stick at nothing; only the other day they sacked and burnt a farmhouse in the hills, and killed all the inmates—man, wife, three children, and a dozen servants. Glad indeed was I to find that your excellency had eluded them. They must have spied upon your coming; yes, dangerous villains, I say. We should have had troops to protect us, but his highness Prince Louis—whom God defend!—cannot spare a man, it is said, so hard is he pressed by the French; and we poor Swabians are at the mercy of these robbers, the offscourings of all the armies. Ah, your excellency, these are bad times for us poor folk, bad times indeed; not that it becomes me to complain when our noble rulers think it necessary to make war; but it is the poor who suffer. It is we who are taxed to keep the soldiers afoot; the bread is taken out of our children's mouths; we are murdered and robbed, our houses are plundered and burned——"
"Except in your case, mein Wirth," said Harry, interrupting the man's hurried, nervous, inconsequent speech. "You seem very comfortable here; I see no signs of plunder or burning."