ood started from the pedestal and led straight to the door.
Sir John's body had been carried outside. Roland shook the massive door.
It was only latched, and opened at the first pressure. Outside the
sill the tracks of blood still continued. Roland could see through
the underbrush the path by which the body had been carried. The broken
branches, the trampled grass, led Roland to the edge of the wood on the
road leading from Pont d'Ain to Bourg. There the body, living or dead,
seemed to have been laid on the bank of the ditch. Beyond that no traces
whatever.

A man passed just then, coming from the direction of the Chateau des
Noires-Fontaines. Roland went up to him.

"Have you seen anything on the road? Did you meet any one?" he inquired.

"Yes," replied the man, "I saw two peasants carrying a body on a
litter."

"Ah!" cried Roland, "was it that of a living man?"

"The man was pale and motionless; he looked as if he were dead."

"Was the blood flowing?"

"I saw some drops on the road."

"In that case, he is living."

Then taking a louis from his pocket he said: "There's a louis for you.
Run for Dr. Milliet at Bourg; tell him to get a horse and come at full
speed to the Chateau des Noires-Fontaines. You can add that there is a
man there in danger of dying."

While the peasant, stimulated by the reward, made all haste to Bourg,
Roland, leaping along on his vigorous legs, was hurrying to the chateau.

And now, as our readers are, in all probability, as curious as Roland
to know what had happened to Sir John, we shall give an account of the
events of the night.

A few minutes before eleven, Sir John, as we have seen, entered what was
usually known as La Correrie, or the pavilion of the Chartreuse, which
was nothing more than a chapel erected in the woods. From the sacristy
he entered the choir. It was empty and seemed solitary. A rather
brilliant moon, veiled from time to time by a cloud, sent its bluish
rays through the stained glass, cracked and broken, of the pointed
windows. Sir John advanced to the middle of the choir, where he paused
and remained standing beside the pedestal.

The minutes slipped away. But this time it was not the convent clock
which marked the time, it was the church at Peronnaz; that is to say,
the nearest village to the chapel where Sir John was watching.

Everything happened up to midnight just as it had to Roland. Sir John
heard only the vague rustling and passing noises of the