Long before the railway brought painters and tourists to Betws-y-Coed, the road down from Cerrigydrudion carried travellers bound for Holyhead and the Irish boats. Near where the village now stands was an inn run by two sisters, pleasant and good looking, and well used by people on the Irish road. It also had a bad name. Guests went to bed with their doors locked and woke to find their money gone, though the doors were still locked and nobody could have come in.
One of the robbed men went to see Huw Llwyd of Cynfal, near Ffestiniog, a former army officer who was widely believed to have more than ordinary knowledge. Huw agreed to look into it. He rode to the inn in his regimentals with his sword at his side, said he was on his way to Ireland and asked for a bed. He spent the evening charming the two sisters with stories of his travels. When he went up he asked for enough candles to burn all night, saying it was a soldier's habit.
In his room he put his clothes on the floor within reach, drew his sword and laid it on the bed by his right hand, and pretended to sleep. After a while two cats came quietly down the partition wall. They chased each other round the room, then began to play with his clothes, turning them over, patting the buttons, and finally working their paws into the pockets. The moment one of them had its paw in the pocket with his purse, Huw struck with the sword. There was a terrible screaming and both cats vanished.
At breakfast only one sister came down. The other, she said, was unwell. Huw said he could not leave without saying goodbye and was taken to her bedside. When he offered his hand she gave him her left. He refused it, saying he had never taken a left hand in his life, and at last, slowly and in obvious pain, she brought out her right, which was wrapped in bandages. Owen's text leaves the rest to the reader. It is a traditional tale, and Huw Llwyd appears in many others as a cunning man.
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