himself well. He speaks to the point and leaves no room for mistakes.
But perhaps monsieur will tell me the reason for this unexpected visit.
My poor house is not often honoured by such company!"

"The wheel has turned again, Pillot; nothing more," I laughed. "We
want to see M. Peleton, who is a very dear friend of ours."

"Is it you, monsieur? It would have been better for us had I left you
to Maubranne's mercy. As to M. Peleton, how should I know anything of
him? He disappeared after that affair with Conde."

"Be sensible, Pillot, the game is against you. We are four; you are
one, and in our power. Accept your defeat like a man, and wait till
the wheel brings you on top again. Peleton is in this house or the
next, and we intend to find him. Come, there is no time to waste."

"Monsieur is so pressing one cannot refuse him," said he, and led the
way along the passage, with Raoul's pistol at his head by way of
reminder.

"We must have a light," D'Arcy declared; "there is no fun in visiting
our friends in the dark."

"There is a lighted candle in the room on our left," remarked Pillot,
and, with Raoul still guarding him, he went to fetch it.

We were now at the bottom of the stairs, and I suggested that Armand
and Humphreys should stay there as a kind of rear-guard.

"A good plan!" said Raoul. "Should this fellow attempt to escape run
your sword through him. Now, my man, lead on, and remember you will
pay dearly for mistakes."

I had rarely known my comrade so firm, so energetic and determined:
this was a phase of his character not often shown. Pillot shrugged his
shoulders carelessly and led the way. Up we went through the silent
house, past many empty rooms, till our guide came to a halt on the
topmost storey.

"Our dear Peleton likes to be high up," said he with a grin; "it is so
quiet and pleasant. By this time most likely he has gone to bed; he
keeps good hours. Perhaps monsieur will unlock the door while I hold
the candle," and he handed Raoul a key.

Stooping down, my comrade endeavoured to insert the key, but there was
evidently something amiss.

"Monsieur has not the knack," said Pillot. "Shall I try?"

"I believe you have given me the wrong key, you rascal."

"Oh, surely not, monsieur! I could not have been so stupid. Let me
see it. No, it is the proper key, monsieur. See," and taking the key
from Raoul, he asked him to hold the light.

In passing from one to the other the c