the wrinkles on his forehead and the knitting of his brows
were any indication.

When we were close to him, he deigned to see us and asked us, in a tone
anything but engaging, whether we wanted anything. He was, no doubt,
the not very amiable landlord of this charming dwelling-place. As we
expressed a hope that he would be good enough to furnish us with a
breakfast, he assured us that he had no provisions, regarding us, as he
said this, with a look that was unmistakably suspicious.

"You may take us in," Rouletabille said to him, "we are not policemen."

"I'm not afraid of the police--I'm not afraid of anyone!" replied the
man.

I had made my friend understand by a sign that we should do better not
to insist; but, being determined to enter the inn, he slipped by the man
on the doorstep and was in the common room.

"Come on," he said, "it is very comfortable here."

A good fire was blazing in the chimney, and we held our hands to the
warmth it sent out; it was a morning in which the approach of winter
was unmistakable. The room was a tolerably large one, furnished with two
heavy tables, some stools, a counter decorated with rows of bottles of
syrup and alcohol. Three windows looked out on to the road. A coloured
advertisement lauded the many merits of a new vermouth. On the
mantelpiece was arrayed the innkeeper's collection of figured
earthenware pots and stone jugs.

"That's a fine fire for roasting a chicken," said Rouletabille. "We have
no chicken--not even a wretched rabbit," said the landlord.

"I know," said my friend slowly; "I know--We shall have to eat red
meat--now."

I confess I did not in the least understand what Rouletabille meant
by what he had said; but the landlord, as soon as he heard the words,
uttered an oath, which he at once stifled, and placed himself at our
orders as obediently as Monsieur Robert Darzac had done, when he heard
Rouletabille's prophetic sentence--"The presbytery has lost nothing of
its charm, nor the garden its brightness." Certainly my friend knew
how to make people understand him by the use of wholly incomprehensible
phrases. I observed as much to him, but he merely smiled. I should have
proposed that he give me some explanation; but he put a finger to his
lips, which evidently signified that he had not only determined not to
speak, but also enjoined silence on my part.

Meantime the man had pushed open a little side door and called to
somebody to bring him half a doz