"This gentleman wants a pair of oars," said the landlord. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. Norris entered the room, followed by Father Spencer. Lost me place, that’s all. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin.
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