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 13, 1863.] orders accordingly. After the remnants of the meal had been cleared away, the landlord himself entered the room to ask what we would like to drink. Certainly a very low, smooth, insinuating voice, very different from that of a rude country landlord. He was a large-built fleshy man, with a red, fresh-coloured, whiskerless face, which gave you at the first glance the idea of great good-nature, combined with an equal amount of stolid indolence; but when those heavy overhanging lids were fairly raised, and you caught a full glance from the grey restless eyes beneath them—restless and treacherous as those of a tiger—then you felt that there was something more than somnolent good nature about this man,—that there was an iron will to do and to dare beneath that impassive exterior.

Jacoby chose some whisky on the landlord’s recommendation, and I ordered a tumbler of the same, more for “the good of the house,” as the saying is, than because I cared to drink it. On Jacoby’s invitation the landlord came and joined us; for the pedlar was fond of society, and probably thought he saw some chance of driving a bargain; at all events, after imbibing a glass or two of whisky, he grew more talkative than ever, and at last lifted his box on to his knees, opened it, and spread out on the table a quantity of cheap jewellery, which looked very bright and glittering by candlelight, but was, in reality, of very small intrinsic value; and endeavoured, by a voluble and energetic harangue, to tempt the landlord into becoming a purchaser. That calm and sententious individual examined the baubles one by one, replaced them carefully on the table, and ended by expressing his opinion of them by a little silent laugh, and two or three extra puffs from his pipe; thereby intimating, as plainly as though he had said so in as many words, “Rubbish, every bit of it: don’t attempt to deceive me!”

Jacoby, with a shrug, put away his wares, closed his box, and resumed his pipe. A grateful space of silence intervened. The pedlar was drinking heavily, and the landlord took care to keep his glass constantly replenished. Before long the effects of the fiery liquor began to make themselves visible in his flushed face, and thick unsteady tones; that mixture of shrewdness and caution which, so far as I could judge, characterised his dealings with every one, seemed suddenly to desert him; he became at once noisy, boastful, and confiding.

“I’ve something here, now, that it will do your, eyes good to look at,” he exclaimed, drawing a small leather bag from some hidden pocket. “Gems of the first water. See here, and here! What do you say to these?” and he poured into his hand a number of small brilliants, all of them unset, which, even in that wretched light, shone and scintillated like star dust, or chippings from the great belt of Orion. “Oh, my darlings, how I love you!” said Jacoby, fondly. “You’re easier to carry than silver or gold, and far prettier to look at. A ragged coat is not always the sign of a poor man, master landlord.”

He shook his head with drunken gravity; gave another fond look at his treasures; then deposited them in the bag; and by a sleight-of-hand movement disposed of the bag and its contents about his person. The landlord’s heavy eyelids were lifted with surprise as the pedlar held out the brilliants in his palm; and he greeted them with a long stealthy glance from the corners of his greedy, treacherous eyes, then let his eyelids fall again, and went on with his smoking as though there were no such things as diamonds in the world.

“You do not drink, young gentleman,” said the landlord to me after a while. “I am afraid the whisky is not to your taste.”

“The whisky is very excellent, I have no doubt,” I replied; “but I rarely drink spirits of any kind, more especially when I have a long day’s walk before me on the morrow.”

“Then perhaps you will allow me to brew you a cup of café-au-lait. I learnt the art when I was a young fellow knocking about Paris, and I flatter myself that I can do it tolerably well. And you too, Mr. Pedlar, would be none the worse for a drop of coffee. What say you?”

“Just as you like, mein Knabe; just as you like. This drink which I have here is very good, but I suppose I’ve had enough of it.”

The landlord set to work with alacrity, and in a few minutes produced an excellent cup of coffee, such, certainly, as I had never tasted before. Immediately after the coffee was ready, the little clock in the corner struck ten, and on hearing it, both Jacoby and I arose, and asked to be shown to our rooms, for we had the prospect of a long tramp before us next day. The mulatto woman and the young savage had retired some time before; so the landlord in person lighted our candles, and ushered us up the rickety stairs, on the top of which we found ourselves in a gloomy corridor lighted from the roof, having doors opening out of it on either side. My room was at one end of this passage, and Jacoby’s at the other. The landlord having seen each of us into his room, bade us a cheerful good-night; and next moment I heard the creaking of the stairs as he went down into the lower parts of the house. I was about to close my door, when Jacoby called to me from his room, “Good-night, ole fellow! Don’t overshleep y’self in th’ morning.” I responded to his greeting, and then closed and locked the door. The bedroom, like every other part of the house I had seen, was poorly and scantily furnished, and was of an old-fashioned, tumble-down appearance. Across the whole length of the low ceiling ran a thick heavy beam, from the middle of which stood out conspicuously a small strong hook, which at once connected itself in my mind with the idea of some antecedent suicide; the floor in many places was rough and uneven; the window consisted of small diamond panes set in lead, and barred with iron; the door was of old black oak; and there was a descent of two steps into the room.

I had sat down to note these things, and was partly undressed, when I suddenly stumbled forward, and found that I had unconsciously gone to sleep while sitting in the chair. A deadly stupor and lethargy, such as I had never experienced before, seemed suddenly to weigh down both my