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 famished, he knocked at the door, and his voice was neither cheerful nor courageous when he asked for food and shelter.

The stout host with his shining face looked at the young traveller's well-worn dress and his faded hat, whereupon he said, gruffly and unkindly: "All the rooms are occupied, and all that we can give you is a place at the supper-table if you can pay for it. Beggars and landlopers we have no use for here."

The young merchant asked if he could not be allowed to sleep in the hay-loft. It was a stormy evening, and he was tired out.

"No," replied his host; "people who have no money are not my people. I don't care what becomes of them."

"Why can't you," said one of the guests, who was sitting in a corner with several others before a steaming bowl of punch, "let this young man sleep in the old ruin across the way?"

"In the ruin!" repeated the host, grinning slyly. "Why not? That will be a splendid place to rest," continued he, turning to the young man, "if you are not afraid of ghosts."

The merchant's pride awoke. "I am afraid of no person, living or dead," said he, looking straight at the landlord's cunning features.

"Come along, then," exclaimed the man, "and I will show you the place." He led the way out of the inn and up an avenue of old chestnut-trees into