he passed them, except that they got progressively smaller and
dirtier the further he went. Down the winding road before him
shone the dull gleam of an oil lamp, the one faint lonely light
that struggled ineffectually with the foggy darkness all round
him. He resolved to go on as far as this lamp, and then, if it
showed him nothing in the shape of an inn, to return to the
central part of the town, and to try if he could not at least
secure a chair to sit down on through the night at one of the
principal hotels.

As he got near the lamp he heard voices, and, walking close under
it, found that it lighted the entrance to a narrow court, on the
wall of which was painted a long hand in faded flesh-color,
pointing, with a lean forefinger, to this inscription:

THE TWO ROBINS.

Arthur turned into the court without hesitation to see what The
Two Robins could do for him. Four or five men were standing
together round the door of the house, which was at the bottom of
the court, facing the entrance from the street. The men were all
listening to one other man, better dressed than the rest, who was
telling his audience something, in a low voice, in which they
were apparently very much interested.

On entering the passage, Arthur was passed by a stranger with a
knapsack in his hand, who was evidently leaving the house.

"No," said the traveler with the knapsack, turning round and
addressing himself cheerfully to a fat, sly-looking, bald-headed