do justice to the best you have." He followed the landlord along a narrow passage and up a twisting staircase. "The best room," said the landlord as he opened a door and lit a candle. "There's no one else staying[10] in the house. Strangers do not come much to Vayenne." [10] "No?" said the traveller interrogatively. "No," returned the landlord. "It's not an easy journey, and, besides, what can strangers want in Vayenne? By your accent you'll be——" "Well, to what extent does my accent betray me?" asked the traveller, with a smile. "English or German," was the answer. "Englishman," said the traveller—"Roger Herrick by name, a casual visitor who may be interested enough to stay in Vayenne some time." The landlord nodded, as though he were not surprised at anything an Englishman might do, and went out promising an excellent dinner forthwith. "So I am in Vayenne at last!" Herrick exclaimed as he glanced around the old room, pleased with its panelled walls and low, beamed ceiling. "In Vayenne! I hardly thought when the time came that the fact would impress me so much." He went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Like shadows in the darkness he could dimly discern the towers of the castle above the roofs opposite, and the slender spire with its top lost in the night. The chimes made little bursts of ecstatic music like the voices and laughter of spirits in the air. Somewhere there was the low rumble of a cart over the cobbles, but the street below him was empty. The diligence had gone; no pedestrian was on the narrow footway. It almost seemed as though he were deserted, left here for all time; that, however anxious he might be to leave Vayenne, he would not be able to do so. The city of his dreams had him fast, and already the first of her surprises was preparing for him. Could he have looked[11] but for an instant into the near future, he might possibly have gone to dinner with less appetite than he did. [11] The long, low room had its windows toward the street, and was broken up by partitions. A
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