Clementina

The next afternoon Wogan came to the town of Ulm.

"Gaydon," he said to himself as he watched its towers and the smoke

curling upwards from its chimneys, "would go no further to-day with this

letter in his pocket. Gaydon--the cautious Gaydon--would sleep in this

town and in its most populous quarter. Gaydon would put up at the

busiest inn. Charles Wogan will follow Gaydon's example."

Wogan rode slowly through the narrow streets of gabled houses until he

came to the market square. The square was frequented; its great fountain

was playing; citizens were taking the air with their wives and children;

the chief highway of the town ran through it; on one side stood the

frescoed Rathhaus, and opposite to it there was a spacious inn. Wogan

drew up at the doorway and saw that the hall was encumbered with

baggage. "Gaydon would stop here," said he, and he dismounted. The

porter came forward and took his horse.

"I need a room," said Wogan, and he entered the house. There were people

going up and down the stairs. While he was unstrapping his valise in his

bedroom, a servant with an apron about his waist knocked at the door

and inquired whether he could help him.

"No," said Wogan; and he thought with more confidence than ever, "here,

to be sure, is where Gaydon would sleep."

He supped at the ordinary in the company of linen merchants and

travellers, and quite recovered his spirits. He smoked a pipe of tobacco

on a bench under the trees of the square, and giving an order that he

should be called at five went up to his bedroom.

There was a key in the lock of the door, which Wogan turned; he also

tilted a chair and wedged the handle. He opened the window and looked

out. His room was on the first floor and not very high from the ground.

A man might possibly climb through the window. Gaydon would assuredly

close the shutters and the window, so that no one could force an

entrance without noise. Wogan accordingly did what Gaydon would

assuredly have done, and when he blew out his candle found himself in

consequence in utter darkness. No glimmer of light was anywhere visible.

He had his habits like another, and one of them was to sleep without

blinds or curtains drawn. His present deflection from this habit made

him restless; he was tired, he wished above all things to sleep, but

sleep would not come. He turned from one side to the other, he punched

his pillows, he tried to sleep with his head low, and when that failed

with his head high.