er a seat and a crust for a weary archer.
He was a man who wrought hard at all that he turned his hand to; but he
heated himself in grinding bones to mix with his flour, and so through
over-diligence he brought a fever upon himself and died."

"Tell me, Aylward," said Alleyne, "what was amiss with the door of
yonder inn that you should ask me to observe it."

"Pardieu! yes, I had well-nigh forgot. What saw you on yonder door?"

"I saw a square hole, through which doubtless the host may peep when he
is not too sure of those who knock."

"And saw you naught else?"

"I marked that beneath this hole there was a deep cut in the door, as
though a great nail had been driven in."

"And naught else?"

"No."

"Had you looked more closely you might have seen that there was a stain
upon the wood. The first time that I ever heard my comrade Black Simon
laugh was in front of that door. I heard him once again when he slew a
French squire with his teeth, he being unarmed and the Frenchman having
a dagger."

"And why did Simon laugh in front of the inn-door!" asked John.

"Simon is a hard and perilous man when he hath the bitter drop in him;
and, by my hilt! he was born for war, for there is little sweetness or
rest in him. This inn, the 'Mouton d'Or,' was kept in the old days by
one Francois Gourval, who had a hard fist and a harder heart. It was
said that many and many an archer coming from the wars had been served
with wine with simples in it, until he slept, and had then been stripped
of all by this Gourval. Then on the morrow, if he made complaint, this
wicked Gourval would throw him out upon the road or beat him, for he
was a very lusty man, and had many stout varlets in his service. This
chanced to come to Simon's ears when we were at Bordeaux together, and
he would have it that we should ride to Cardillac with a good hempen
cord, and give this Gourval such a scourging as he merited. Forth we
rode then, but when we came to the Mouton d'Or,' Gourval had had word of
our coming and its purpose, so that the door was barred, nor was there
any way into the house. 'Let us in, good Master Gourval!' cried Simon,
and 'Let us in, good Master Gourval!' cried I, but no word could we get
through the hole in the door, save that he would draw an arrow upon us
unless we went on our way. 'Well, Master Gourval,' quoth Simon at last,
'this is but a sorry welcome, seeing that we have ridden so far just to
shake you by the hand.' 'Canst sh