He scratched his head, looking at me with an ugly glitter in his eyes. But he said nothing, and I dismounted.
"Where can I stable my horse?" I asked.
"I'll put it up," he answered sullenly, stepping forward and taking the reins in his hands.
"Very well," I said; "but I go with you. A merciful man is merciful to his beast, and where-ever I go I see my horse fed."
"It will be fed," he said shortly. And then he waited for me to go into the house. "The wife is in there," he continued, looking at me stubbornly.
"Imprimis--if you understand Latin, my friend," I answered, "the horse in the stall."
As if he saw it was no good, he turned the sorrel slowly round, and began to lead it across the village street. There was a shed behind the inn, which I had already marked and taken for the stable, and I was surprised when I found he was not going there. But I made no remark, and in a few minutes saw the horse well stabled in a hovel which seemed to belong to a neighbour.
This done, the man led the way back to the inn, carrying my valise.
"You have no other guests?" I said, with a casual air. I knew he was watching me closely.
"No," he answered.