Wogan sat down upon a corn-bin and waited while his mare was groomed and fed.  The mare looked round once or twice in the midst of her meal, twisting her neck as far as her halter allowed.

“I am not gone yet, my lady,” said he, “take your time.”

Wogan made a ghostly figure in the dim shadowy light.  His face was of an extraordinary pallor; his teeth chattered; his eyes burned.  Gaydon looked at him with concern and said to the groom, “You can take the saddles off.  We shall need no horses to-night.”

The four men returned to the house.  Wogan went upstairs first.  Gaydon held back the other two at the foot of the stairs.

“Not a word, not a question, till he has eaten, or we shall have him in bed for a twelvemonth.  Misset, do you run for a doctor.  O’Toole, see what you can find in the larder.”

Wogan sat before the fire without a word while O’Toole spread the table and set a couple of cold partridges upon it and a bottle of red wine.  Wogan ate mechanically for a little and afterwards with some enjoyment.  He picked the partridges till the bones were clean, and he finished the bottle of wine.  Then he rose to his feet with a sigh of something very like to contentment and felt along the mantel-shelf with his hands.  O’Toole, however, had foreseen his wants and handed him a pipe newly filled.  While Wogan was lighting the tobacco, Misset came back into the room with word that the doctor was out upon his last rounds, but would come as soon as he had returned home.  The four men sat down about the fire, and Wogan reached out his hand and felt O’Toole’s arm.

“It is you,” he said.  “There you are, the three of you, my good friends, and this is Schlestadt.  But it is strange,” and he laughed a little to himself and looked about the room, assuring himself that this indeed was Gaydon’s lodging.

“You received a slip of paper?” said he.

“Four days back,” said Gaydon.

“And understood?”

“That we were to be ready.”

“Good.”

“Then it’s not a lottery,” murmured O’Toole, “and we’ve drawn no prizes.”

“Ah, but we are going to,” cried Wogan.  “We are safe here.  No one can hear us; no one can burst in.  But I am sure of that.  Misset knows the trick that will make us safe from interruption, eh?”

Misset looked blankly at Wogan.

“Why, one can turn the key,” said he.

“To be sure,” said Wogan, with a laugh of admiration for that device of which he had bethought himself, and which he ascribed to Misset, “if there’s a key; but if there’s no key, why, a chair tilted against the door to catch the handle, eh?”

Misset locked the door, not at all comprehending that device, and returned to his seat.

“We are to draw the greatest prize that ever was drawn,” resumed Wogan, and he broke off.

“But is there a cupboard in the room?  No matter; I forgot that this is Gaydon’s lodging, and Gaydon’s not the man to overlook a cupboard.”