om," I exclaimed, "and bring me something to eat and
drink."

He lit a couple of candles, and walking farther along the passage threw
open a door which led into a crowded room. The inmates stopped
talking, and looked at me curiously. One, leaving his seat, came close
to my side.

The fellow was a stranger to me, and, unless I am a poor judge, a
cut-throat by profession. Finding that I made no sign of recognition
he stood still saying clumsily, "Pardon, monsieur, I mistook you for
another gentleman." Then, lowering his voice he added, "Monsieur
wishes to remain unknown? It is well. I am silent as the grave."

Gazing at me far more villainously than the landlord had done, he
returned to his place, which perhaps was well, as I was rapidly
approaching the verge of lunacy. However, I followed the innkeeper up
a crazy staircase, along various rambling corridors, and finally into a
sparsely-furnished but comfortable apartment. Uttering a sigh of
relief at the sight of a clean bed, I sat down on one of the two chairs
which the room contained.

"Thank goodness!" I exclaimed, and waited patiently while my host went
to see after the supper.

He was back in less than ten minutes, and I smiled pleasantly in
anticipation of the coming feast, when he entered--empty-handed!
Something had happened, I knew not what, but it had increased the man's
respect tremendously.

"Forgive me," he murmured penitently, "but I have only just learned the
truth, and Francois is dead. Still it is not too late to change, and
monsieur can have his own room."

"Where is my supper?" I asked. "Can't you see I am starving? What
care I about your Francois? Bring me some food quickly."

"Certainly, monsieur, certainly," said he, and disappeared, leaving me
to wonder what the new mystery was.

"What does he mean by 'own room'? Who am I? And who, I wonder, is the
unlucky Francois? It seems to me that we must all be out of our minds
together."

Presently the innkeeper, attended by a servant, reappeared, and between
them they placed on the table a white cloth, a flagon of wine, a loaf
of wheaten bread, a piece of cheese, and a cold roast fowl.

Sitting back in my chair, I regarded the proceedings with an approving
smile, saying, "Ah, that is more to the purpose! Now I begin to
believe that I am really at La Boule d'Or!"

When the men had gone, I took off my sword, loosened my doublet, and
sat down to supper, feeling at peace with all