ectly his attempt succeeded he placed a finger on his
closed lips, held it there a second or two, and vanished.

It was Pillot, and in my amazement I almost spoke the name aloud. How
did he get there? What mystery was afoot now?

Presently the stranger, who had been trying to account for the new
expression in my face, exclaimed, "Monsieur then is not a relative?"

"A relative," I answered vaguely, for the unexpected appearance of
Pillot had put the soldier's remarks out of my head altogether; "I wish
you would not pester me with your questions. I am tired and hungry,
and do not understand what you mean."

"I am sorry, monsieur," he said humbly; "I have few friends, and seeing
one of them, as I fancied, was carried away. Well, there, let it pass.
Time was when Captain Courcy could ruffle it with the best."

He really seemed so downhearted that I was ashamed of my brusque
behaviour, and exclaimed, "It is I who should ask pardon, monsieur, but
indeed, I am badly in want of food and rest: I have ridden far. Later,
perhaps, we shall meet again, when I am in better condition for
talking."

"It may be so, monsieur," and, saluting me with a courtly bow, he
turned and re-crossed the street, while I entered the inn and was
ushered into a private room.

"A good supper, landlord," I said, "the best you have in the house, and
while it is being prepared I will see to my horse."

"The servants will attend to the animal, monsieur," he answered; but it
has always been a fancy of mine that every rider should see that his
horse is made comfortable.

By the time I returned supper was ready, and I sat down to an ample
meal, which reminded me strangely of the one I had eaten in La Boule
d'Or on the night of my arrival in Paris. At that time, my purse was
nearly empty; now it was full almost to bursting--a welcome difference.

After supper I leaned back in my chair, musing over the strange event
that had occurred outside. But for one thing I should soon have
banished all thoughts of Captain Courcy from my mind. He was, I
imagined, a gentleman who, either through ill-luck or his own folly,
had come to grief in the world, and was at present reduced to borrowing
money from his acquaintances.

But if this were so, why had Pillot acted in such a strange manner?
Why, indeed, was he in Rheims at all? I had ordered him to proceed to
Aunay, which it was certain he had not done. I was still turning these
things over in my mind wh