Evening star., 1941-09-22

I want this letter. 1t can do for me
what the ring may do for you. I
let you keep the ring. May 1 retain
this letter."
Warburton reflected. After all,
Elizabeth might have been willing
for the letter to proceed to France,
since her own envoy had been
carrying it; and if, by delivering it,
Montjoie could wipe out whatever
disgrace barred him from his own
country
"All right, Bartho," he said. You
are entitled to chance as we'll as /.
You can take the letter to Francis" !"
They sealed the bargain with
handclasp. TOO bad our paths
lie in different directions" smiled
Montjoie. 1--WE could 60 far to-
gether. Now, let us downstairs.
Our meal should be ready by this
time"
A Stranger.
They found the landlord himself
in the public room placing a platter
of chicken on table that already
contained bread and wine. But late
as the hour was, the room was not
deserted. Montjoie, about to seat
himself before the inviting repast,
paused at sight of another man sit
ting silent and alone at another
table some distance away.
The man was almost in the
shadows, yet enough of his dress
could be seen to reveal that he must
be an individual of some conse-
quence. Although indoors, he still
wore riding cloak and a fiat hat
with arched plume. The tip of
scabbard extended beyond the length
of the cloak, touching the floor. On
the table before him reposed bottle
of wine and a half-emptied goblet.
But what disconnected Montjoie,
and even struck Warburton as
somewhat peculiar, was the fixed,
unblinking stare of the eyes turned
in their direction.
Underhill, the landlord. laid re-
assuring hand upon Montjoie's arm.
BE not alarmed, friend Bartho,"
he spoke low. That is only Sir Ar
thur. He often comes here for my
good wine. He is blind"
Montjoie turned his back indif-
ferently, but Warburton cast a
glance of pity at the blind man
whose head was high and proud In
spite of his af11iction. "Sir Arthur
who?"
Underhill shrugged his shoulders.
HE will not talk of himself. That
Is all I know of his name"
A curse from Montjoie inter-
rupted him. The Frenchman had
poured and tasted a cup OF wine.
"What is this?" he spat. Vinegar?
To call this Burgundy is an insult
to France!" A torrent of French
phrases was hurled at the hapless
Underhill.
The Blind Man Speaks.
"a thousand pardons!" The land
lord picked up the f1agon, looked
sharply at Warburton. Il must have
made a mistake in the dark of my
cellar"
He scurried away in great haste.
Montjoie, still glowering, broke off
a crust of bread, picked up leg
of the chicken and began to cram
food into his mouth. Warburton,
ravenously hungry an hour ago, had
little appetite now, yet he took some
bread and nibbled at it.
Presently Underhill was back
with brimming f1agon and a be-
coming smile. This is my best, my
masters" he assured them as he
filled the goblets.
Montjoie lifted his cup. Lets see
if this boaster knows anything of
wines, Adam" he smiled skeptically.
"a toast! May success attend our
separate ventures"
Young sir!" Quietly, but STAR
ting in its unexpectedness, came the
voice of the blind man in the back
ground. do not drink that Wine!"
Warburton, with the vessel touch
ing his lips. jerked his head at the
suddent warning and the involun-
tary reaction spilled wine over his
knuckles. Then with poised cup he
turned inquiring eyes in the direc-
ton of the interruption.
"Why--what do you mean, Sir
Arthur? sputtered Underhill.
The blind man sat immovable as
before. aloof as . Sphinx. staring