'I saw a square hole, through which doubtless the host may peep when he is not too sure of those who knock.'
'And saw you naught else?'
'I marked that beneath this hole there was a deep cut in the door, as though a great nail had been driven in.'
'And naught else?'
'No.'
'Had you looked more closely you might have seen that there was a stain upon the wood. The first time that I ever heard my comrade Black Simon laugh was in front of that door. I heard him once again when he slew a French squire with his teeth, he being unarmed and the Frenchman having a dagger.'
'And why did Simon laugh in front of the inn-door?' asked John.
'Simon is a hard and perilous man when he hath the bitter drop in him; and, by my hilt! he was born for war, for there is little sweetness or rest in him: This inn, the "Mouton d'Or," was kept in the old days by one François Gourval, who had a hard fist and a harder heart. It was said that many and many an archer coming from the wars had been served with wine with simples in it, until he slept, and had then been stripped of all by this Gourval. Then on the morrow, if he made complaint, this wicked Gourval would throw him out upon the road or beat him, for he was a very lusty man, and had many stout varlets in his service. This chanced to come to Simon's ears when we were at Bordeaux together, and he would have it that we should ride to Cardillac with a good hempen cord and give this Gourval such a scourging as he merited. Forth we rode then, but when we came to the "Mouton d'Or," Gourval had had word of our coming and its purpose, so that the door was barred, nor was there any way into the house. "Let us in, good Master Gourval!" cried Simon, and "Let us in, good Master Gourval!" cried I, but no word could we get through the hole in the door, save that he would draw an arrow upon us unless we went on our way. "Well, Master Gourval," quoth
