"What, Mr. Blake," said the man, "are you back so soon?"
"I am not Mr. Blake," said Anthony, as he threw aside the robes and got out. "What encouragement is there here for a traveler who has the mind to stay overnight?"
The man held the lantern up so that its lighted candle might bring out Anthony's face.
"I was sure you were Mr. Blake," said he. "Your horses feet pattered on the road just as his do, and you came in at the gate in the same free fashion."
"As I so resemble friend Blake in those ways," said Anthony, "I wonder is he like me in being hungry and in need of a fire and a bed."
"I have no doubt but you can have both if you inquire within," said the man. "And if you desire I'll rub and feed and bed your horses."
Anthony turned the animals over to him, and walked up the paved way to the door of the tavern. There were some massive hewn steps leading up to the door, and a hood projected over it to keep out the wash of the weather. Anthony went through the wide hall and into a room at one side. Two men sat by a fire playing drafts, and a woman stood by the table watching them. One of the men was a furtive, dry-looking person with a patch over one eye; the other was Monsieur Lafargue. And she who stood looking on was his daughter.
XVII
As Anthony stood in the doorway, unnoticed by those in the room, a man came down the passage. It was the landlord, a massive man, with a glowing vitality and a quick eye.