"I must thank you for hiding me so securely. For your courtesy I should tell you my name. I am—"
"Better let me stay in ignorance," said Saunders. "I am in no position to answer questions then."
"As you will; and, truly, I am on an adventure of which I understand little and was warned to speak of sparingly. I was to make for this inn and inquire for a fiddler. How this fiddler fellow is to serve me I do not know."
"Nor I," answered the landlord.
At that moment a little cadence of notes, strangely like a laugh, fell upon their ears, and there came a fiddler into the tap-room.
"Ale, Master Boniface, ale. I could get well drunk upon the generosity of your village yonder. See how they rewarded this fiddle of mine for making them dance." And he held out a handful of small coins. "Ale, then, and let it be to the brim. Has anyone inquired for a poor fellow like me?"
"This gentleman," said the landlord.
The fiddler looked steadily into the eyes of the guest for a moment, as if he were trying to recall his face, then he bowed.
"Martin Fairley, sir, is very much at your service."