He looked queerly at me, for he knew as well as I there was no guest but myself beneath the roof.
“By your leave,” said he, “I am ill prepared to make any guest welcome, and pray you do me the favour to seek entertainment elsewhere.”
“Nay,” said I, “I like the place. And if you suspect me, let me tell you I am a plain London printer’s ’prentice, come to seek my Grace’s licence for a book, which I hope to receive to-morrow.”
“I hope you say true,” said he, “for I have had trouble enough with guests here lately, not as honest as you. Why, sir,” said he, filling my mug, “only yesterday there came here such a surly-faced varlet as you never saw, who whined and sang psalms as he drank my ale; and then when the time came to pay, told me to score it to one Captain Merriman, in whose sendee he was, and who would come and pay it presently. I ask you, sir, how would you like that at your inn?”
“Thank Heaven I have no inn; but tell me, landlord, this varlet, was he a long pale fellow, with straight hair, and eyes half shut; and was this the tune he whined?” And I hummed Peter’s favourite tune.
“The very man,” said my landlord, rising to his feet with a start. “You have hit him to a point. And be you then this Captain Merriman that is to pay my score?”
“Not so,” said I, laughing, “and you may bid farewell to your money if you are to look for it to him. I know the villain, landlord, and if I saw him here, I warrant you this sword of mine would not be lying thus in its sheath. But tell me. This surly-faced rogue, what did he do? What was his business?”
“Indeed, I know not. Save to ogle all the women that came this way, not sparing the Popish nuns in yonder convent.”
And he pointed to a plain building close at hand, peeping from among the trees, and walled all round with a high wall.
“He asked so many questions of the place, and was so curious to see the sisters and their scholars walk abroad, that had I a daughter in keeping there, I would be glad to get her safe back under my roof.”