The man very quickly led up to the subject of his companion and kinsman (laying an apparent and rather suspicious emphasis on that word), asking if he did not mean to come to supper, since he had seen him enter the inn at dusk.
Paul replied that his comrade was unwell, and that he would retire early to bed, and have something hot to take there.

He was resolved that Edward should not be exposed to the gaze of these rough men, whose faces inspired him with the greatest uneasiness.
Edward should be supposed to be sick, and that might divert attention from his movements for the time being; and, long before the morning dawned, he hoped that they might both be far away from this ill-omened spot.
"Ill!" quoth the peddler; "no doubt a colic or a chill, taken in this villainous cold weather.

I have a draught here that acts like a charm in all such cases.

If you will permit me, I will mix it for you in a stoup of hot spiced wine, and I warrant he will sleep like a dormouse all night, and wake in the morning as well as ever." Paul thanked the peddler, and the ingredients of the draught were called for.

He watched its preparation keenly, and noted that several meaning glances were exchanged between the peddler and his associates--as he now believed half the men in the inn to be.