The Count of Monte Cristo

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stumbled and threw me. I must reach Compiegne to-night, or I shall cause
deep anxiety to my family. Could you let me hire a horse of you?"

An inn-keeper has always a horse to let, whether it be good or bad. The
host called the stable-boy, and ordered him to saddle "Whitey," then he
awoke his son, a child of seven years, whom he ordered to ride before
the gentleman and bring back the horse. Andrea gave the inn-keeper
twenty francs, and in taking them from his pocket dropped a visiting
card. This belonged to one of his friends at the Cafe de Paris, so that
the innkeeper, picking it up after Andrea had left, was convinced that
he had let his horse to the Count of Mauleon, 25 Rue Saint-Dominique,
that being the name and address on the card. "Whitey" was not a fast
animal, but he kept up an easy, steady pace; in three hours and a
half Andrea had traversed the nine leagues which separated him from
Compiegne, and four o'clock struck as he reached the place where the
coaches stop. There is an excellent tavern at Compiegne, well remembered
by those who have ever been there. Andrea, who had often stayed there