At last Humphrey grew impatient. "Do we come in, or do we stay out?" he
demanded.
"Why, that I hardly know," was the slow answer. "There be many rogues
about; some in priests' robes and some not."
"Yea, verily," responded Humphrey, fervently; "but we be not of the
number. _Pax vobiscum_," he added, hastily. "I had well nigh forgot
that," he said in an aside to Hugo.
But the old man's ears were keen, and he caught the aside meant for
Hugo's ears alone. "Thou be but a sorry priest to forget thy _pax
vobiscum_," he said with a crafty look. "Perchance thou art no priest,"
he added, coming closer and peering into Humphrey's face.
He looked so long that Humphrey again grew impatient. "What seest thou
on my face?" he asked.
"Why, I do see a mole on thy nose. It is a very small one, and of scant
size, but because thou hast it thou mayest come down from thy horse,
thou and the lad with thee, and I will give thee lodging for the
night."
Instinctively Humphrey raised his hand and touched a tiny mole on the
side and near the end of his nose. The man of the hut watched him. "I
see thou knowest that a mole near the end of the nose is lucky," he
said.
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