Walking up to the door, I rapped upon it with the hilt of my sword and announced that we were weary travellers who were seeking a night's shelter.
The first result of my appeal was a sound as of some one bustling rapidly about, with the clinking of metal and noise of the turning of locks.

This died away into a hush, and I was about to knock once more when a crackling voice greeted us from the other side of the door.
'There is little shelter here, gentlemen, and less provisions,' it said.
'It is but six miles to Amesbury, where at the Cecil Arms ye shall find, I doubt not, all that is needful for man and for beast.' 'Nay, nay, mine invisible friend,' quoth Saxon, who was much reassured by the sound of a human voice, 'this is surely but a scurvy reception.
One of our horses is completely foundered, and none of them are in very good plight, so that we could no more make for the Cecil Arms at Amesbury than for the Gruner Mann at Lubeck.

I prythee, therefore, that you will allow us to pass the remainder of the night under your roof.' At this appeal there was much creaking of locks and rasping of bolts, which ended in the door swinging slowly open, and disclosing the person who had addressed us.
By the strong light which shone out from behind him we could see that he was a man of venerable aspect, with snow-white hair and a countenance which bespoke a thoughtful and yet fiery nature.

The high pensive brow and flowing beard smacked of the philosopher, but the keen sparkling eye, the curved aquiline nose, and the lithe upright figure which the weight of years had been unable to bend, were all suggestive of the soldier.

His lofty bearing, and his rich though severe costume of black velvet, were at strange variance with the humble nature of the abode which he had chosen for his dwelling-place.
'Ho!' said he, looking keenly at us.