I should no doubt have interfered; and yet the three men meant no harm to the wayfarer, but resented the reticence that he displayed to them though they had given him beer; it was to them as though a master key had failed to open a cupboard.  And, as for me, curiosity held me down to my chair and forbade me to interfere on behalf of the sack; for the old man’s furtive ways, and the night out of which he came, and the hour of his coming, and the look of his sack, all made me long as much to know what he had, as even the blacksmith, the carpenter and the postman’s son.

And then they found the emeralds.  They were all bigger than hazel nuts, hundreds and hundreds of them:  and the old man screamed.

“Come, come, we’re not thieves,” said the blacksmith.

“We’re not thieves,” said the carpenter.

“We’re not thieves,” said the postman’s son.

And with awful fear on his face the wayfarer closed his sack, whimpering over his emeralds and furtively glancing round as though the loss of his secret were and utterly deadly thing.  And then they asked him to give them just one each, just one huge emerald each, because they had given him a glass of beer.  Then to see the wayfarer shrink against his sack and guard it with clutching fingers one would have said that he was a selfish man, were it not for the terror that was freezing his face.  I have seen men look sheer at Death with far less fear.

And they took their emerald all three, one enormous emerald each, while the old man hopelessly struggled till he saw his three emeralds go, and fell to the floor and wept, a pitiable, sodden heap.

And about that time I began to hear far off down the windy road, by which that sack had come, faintly at first and slowly louder and louder, the click clack clop of a lame horse coming nearer.  Click clack clop and a loose shoe rattling, the sound of a horse too weary to be out upon such a night, too lame to be out at all.

Click clack clop.  And all of a sudden the old wayfarer heard it; heard it above the sound of his won sobbing, and at once went white to the lips.  Such sudden fear as blanched him in a moment struck right to the hearts of all there.  They muttered to him that it was only their play, they hastily whispered excuses, they asked him what was wrong, but seemed scarcely to hope for an answer, nor did he speak, but sat with a frozen stare, all at once dry-eyed, a monument to terror.

Nearer and nearer came the click clack clop.

And when I saw the expression of that man’s face and how its horror deepened as the ominous sound drew nearer, then I knew that something was wrong.  And looking for the last time upon all four I saw the wayfarer horror-struck by his sack and the other three crowding round to put their huge emeralds back then, even on such a night, I slipped away from the inn.

Outside the bitter wind roared in my ears, and close in the darkness the horse went click clack clop.