A little way beyond he caught sight of the sign he was in search of.

It swung in front of an old-fashioned, dingy building, with much of the old-world look that pervaded the town.

The last red rays of the sun were upon it, lighting up a sorely faded coat of arms.

The supporters, two red horses on their hind legs, were all of it he could make out.

The crest above suggested a skate, but could hardly have been intended for one.