ted of a narrow couch, a chair and a massive
wardrobe. Unlike the chamber assigned to Jacqueline, the door was
without key or bolt; a significant fact to the jester, in view of the
warning he had received. Nor was it possible to move wardrobe or bed,
the first being too heavy and the last being screwed to the floor, had
the occupant desired to barricade himself from the anticipated danger
without. A number of suspicious stains enhanced the gruesome character
of the room, and as these appeared to lead to the wardrobe, the jester
carried his investigation to a more careful survey of that imposing
piece of furniture. Opening the door, although he could not find the
secret of the mechanism, the fool concluded that the floor of this
ponderous wooden receptacle was a trap through which the body of the
victim could be secretly lowered.

This brief exploration of his surroundings occupied but a few moments,
and then, after blowing out the candle and heaping the clothes together
on the bed into some resemblance of a human figure lying there, the
jester drew his sword and softly crept down the passage toward the
stairs, at the head of which he paused and listened. He could hear the
voices and see the shadows of the men below, and, with beating heart,
descended a few steps that he might catch what they were saying.
Crouching against the wall, with bated breath, he heard first the
landlord's tones.

"Well, rogues, what say you to another sack of wine?" asked the host,
cheerily.

"It will serve--while we wait," ominously answered the master of the
boar.

"Haven't we waited long enough?" said an impatient voice.

"Tut! tut! young blood," growled another, reprovingly. "Would you
disturb him at his prayers?"

"The landlord is right," spoke up the leader. "We have the night
before us. Bring the wine."

In stentorian tones the host called the serving-man, and soon from the
clinking of cups, the clearing of throats, and the exclamations of
satisfaction, foully expressed, the listening jester knew that the skin
had been circulated and the tankards filled. One man even began to
sing again an equivocal song, but was stopped by a warning imprecation
to which he ill-naturedly responded with a half-defiant curse.

"Knaves! knaves!" cried the reproachful voice of the landlord. "Can
you not drink together like honest men?"

This mild expostulation of the host seemed not without its effect, for
the impending quarrel passed ha