as free from
new paint. It seemed to Wogan, however, wellnigh useless to take
precautions in the choice of a lodging; danger leaped at him from every
quarter. For this last night he must trust to his luck; and besides
there was the splash of the water falling over the mill-dam. It was
always something to Wogan to fall asleep with that sound in his ears. He
dismounted accordingly, and having ordered his supper asked for a room.

"You will sleep here?" exclaimed his host.

"I will at all events lie in bed," returned Wogan.

The innkeeper took a lamp and led the way up a narrow winding stair.

"Have a care, sir," said he; "the stairs are steep."

"I prefer them steep."

"I am afraid that I keep the light from you, but there is no room for
two to walk abreast."

"It is an advantage. I do not like to be jostled on the stairs."

The landlord threw open a door at the top of the stairs.

"The room is a garret," he said in apology.

"So long as it has no cupboards it will serve my turn."

"Ah! you do not like cupboards."

"They fill a poor man with envy of those who have clothes to hang in
them."

Wogan ascertained that there were no cupboards. There was a key, too, in
the lock, and a chest of drawers which could be moved very suitably in
front of the door.

"It is a good garret," said Wogan, laying down his bag upon a chair.

"The window is small," continued the landlord.

"One will be less likely to fall out," said Wogan. One would also, he
thought, be less likely to climb in. He looked out of the window. It was
a good height from the ground; there was no stanchion or projection in
the wall, and it seemed impossible that a man could get his shoulders
through the opening. Wogan opened the window to try it, and the sound of
someone running came to his ears.

"Oho!" said he, but he said it to himself, "here's a man in a mighty
hurry."

A mist was rising from the ground; the evening, too, was dark. Wogan
could see no one in the road below, but he heard the footsteps
diminishing into a faint patter. Then they ceased altogether. The man
who ran was running in the direction of Stuttgart.

"Yes, your garret will do," said Wogan, in quite a different voice. He
had begun to think that this night he would sleep, and he realised now
that he must not. The man might be running on his own business, but this
was the last night before Wogan would reach his friends. Stuttgart was
only three miles away. He could take no r