The courier gazed with blank, heavy eyes at O'Toole. He had the
appearance of a man fuddled with drink. He heaved a sigh or two.
"Will you repeat that," he said at length, "and slowly?"
O'Toole repeated his remark, and the courier nodded at him. "That's
very strange," said he, solemnly, wagging his head. "I do not dispute
its truth, but it is most strange. I will tell my wife of it." He turned
in his chair, and a twinge from his bruises made him cry out. "I shall
be as stiff as a mummy in the morning," he exclaimed, and swore loudly
at "the bandits" who had caused him this deplorable journey. Misset and
O'Toole exchanged a quick glance, and Misset pushed the glass across the
table. The courier took it, and his eyes lighted up.
"You have come from Trent," said he. "Did you pass a travelling carriage
on the road?"
"Yes," said Misset; "the Prince of Baden with a large following drove
into Trent as we came out."
"Yes, yes," said the courier. "But no second party behind the Prince?"
Misset shook his head; he made a pretence of consulting O'Toole in
French, and O'Toole shook his head.
"Then I shall have the robbers," cried the courier. "They are to be
flayed alive, and they deserve it," he shouted fiercely to Misset.
"Gallows-birds!"
He dropped his head upon his arms and muttered "gallows-birds" again. It
seemed that he was falling asleep, but he suddenly sat up and beat on
the table with his fist.
"I have eaten nothing since the morning. Ah--gallows-birds--flayed
alive, and hanged--no, hanged and flayed alive--no, that's impossible."
He drank off the wine which Misset had poured out for him, and rose from
his chair. "Where's the landlord? I want supper. I want besides to speak
to him;" and he staggered towards the door.
"As for supper," said Misset, "we shall be glad if you will share ours.
Travellers should be friendly."
O'Toole caught the courier by the arm and with a polite speech in French
drew him again down into his chair. The courier stared at O'Toole and
forgot all about the landlord. He had eaten nothing all day, and the
wine and the water-jug had gone to his head. He put a long forefinger on
O'Toole's knee.
"Say that again," said he, and O'Toole obeyed. A slow, fat smile spread
all over the courier's face.