"
The nightcapped head was withdrawn, the lattice was sharply closed, and
we were left to make the best of the situation.
It was serious: nearly one in the morning, the whole town slumbering,
and we "homeless, ragged, and tanned."
To remain was useless. Not all the ringing and rowing in the world would
bring forth Madame again, though it might possibly produce her avenging
spouse. Andre shouldered his baggage and we began to retrace our steps.
"Back to the hotel," commanded H.C.; "they must put us up somewhere."
"Not a hole or corner unoccupied," groaned Andre. "You can't sleep in
the bread oven. And they will all have gone to bed by the time we get
back again."
Suddenly he halted before a house at the corner of the marketplace. It
looked little better than a common cabaret, and was also closed and
dark. Down went the luggage, as he knocked mysteriously at the shutters.
"What are you doing?" we said. "You don't suppose that we would put up
here even for an hour."
"It is clean and respectable," objected Andre. "Messieurs cannot walk
the streets till morning."
A door was as mysteriously opened, leading into a room. A couple of
candles were burning at a table, round which some rough-looking men were
seated, drinking and playing cards, but keeping silence. It looked
suspicious and uninviting.
"In fact we might be murdered here," shuddered H.
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