The eye of a lieutenant opened.

"Come in, ma'am," he said, and rose. "Take my chair."

"Could you tell me if there is any hotel?"

"There is some sort of a shanty down the street. I'll take you."

Further up the street a faint light shone under a slit between two
boards. There was no door near it, no keyhole or shutter. The American
thundered at the boards with a tin of jam which he took out of his
pocket. The noise was monstrous in the blackness, but the town had heard
noises more monstrous than that, and it lay in a barred and blind,
unanswering stupor.

"God!" said the American, quickly angered, and kicked the board till the
slit grew larger. The light went out.

"Some one is coming round to the door," said Fanny, in time to prevent
the destruction of the board.

Higher up the street bolts were being withdrawn and a light fell upon
the pavement.

"Who's there?" creaked a voice. The American moved towards the light.

"The hotel is shut to Americans," said the voice.

"The devil it is," shouted the American. "And why, then?"