But Ethan seemed rather doubtful. Gazing about, he said:
“Don’t be quite so sure about your big building, Shamus. We’ve passed quite a number of them in the last few hours.”
“Ah, but we are right anyway, Master Ethan, as you’ll find. A half hour will see us doing justice to that good French woman’s fine cooking.”
They strode along for more than a half hour; at length Ethan saw that doubt was shaking the confidence of Longsword. He laughed gleefully.
“Well, we may yet stay in the streets supperless all night,” said he. “Are you very hungry, Shamus?”
“Master Ethan,” said the trooper, “this walk has given me an appetite such as I haven’t had since I were a bit of a gossoon at home in Tipperary.”
This solemn assurance and the feeling manner with which it was delivered was too much for Ethan. He leaned against a pillar of a building which they were passing and shouted with mirth.
“You’ll kill me yet, you old death’s head,” cried he at length. “But, go on, let’s see if we can’t make you happy by finding the house and the supper that you so long for.”
Some distance farther along Shamus uttered an exclamation of delight.
“Here we are, sure,” said he. “The brown building with the railings about it and the wide roof like a bird box.”