Back against the trees nestled "The
Jolly Farmers," an inn of good repute in this neighbourhood, both for
the quality of its liquor and the amiable temper of its landlord. A
guest had entered not five minutes ago, and was talking to the landlord
in an inner parlour when the barking of the dog interrupted them.
"Horses!" said the landlord. "They follow you so sharply that it is well
to be cautious. This way, sir."
He touched the wall where there certainly was no sign of a door, yet a
door swung open inwards, disclosing a dark and narrow chamber. The guest
entered it without question, and the landlord hurried out to meet the
new arrivals.
"You ride late, gentlemen."
"And would sample your liquor, landlord," said Rosmore, dismounting and
bidding his men do the same. "Have the horses looked to."
The landlord called in a stentorian voice, and a lad came running from
the rear of the premises.
"Any other guests to-night, landlord?" Rosmore asked as he passed into
the inn.
"No, sir, and not much chance of them. They're having a sort of feast in
the village yonder--dancing and such-like; and what business there is
'The Blue Boar' will get--unless, mind you, a pair o' lovers is tempted
to come up this way for the sake o' the walk.
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