ury to Louis. She put in her
pocket the silver-handled pistol from the fatal cupboard.

In an hour from the time she found the note, the horses and coach were
at the door, and the faithful Havel, cloaked and armed, was ready for
the journey. A note to Louis, with the excuse of a sudden and important
call to Quebec, which he was to construe into business concerning her
profession; hurried yet careful arrangements for his comfort during her
absence; a letter to the Cure begging of him a daily visit to the Manor
House; and then, with the flurried Madame Marie, she entered the coach
with Havel on the box, and they were off.

The coach rattled through the village and stopped for a moment at the
smithy. A few words of cheerful good-bye to her father--she carried the
spring in her face and the summer of gaiety in her face however sore her
heart was--and they were once more upon the road.

Their first stage was twenty-five miles, and it led through the ravine
where Parpon and his comrades had once sought to frighten George
Fournel. As they passed the place Madelinette shuddered, and she
remembered Fournel's cynical face as he left the house three months
ago. She felt that it would not easily soften to mercy or look upon her
trouble with a human eye, if once the will were in his hands. It was
a silent journey, but Madame Marie asked no questions, and there was
comfort in her unspoken sympathy.

Five hours, and at midnight they arrived at the end of the first stage
of their journey, at the village tavern of St. Stanislaus. Here Madame
Marie urged Madelinette to stay and sleep, but this she refused to do,
if horses could be got to go forward. The sight of two gold pieces made
the thing possible in the landlord's eyes, and Madame Marie urged no
more, but found some refreshment, of which she gently insisted that
Madelinette should partake. In another hour from their arrival they were
on the road again, with the knowledge that Tardif had changed horses
and gone forward four hours before, boasting as he went that when the
bombshell he was carrying should burst, the country would stay awake o'
nights for a year.

Madelinette herself had made the inquiries of the landlord, whose
easily-bought obsequiousness now knew no bounds, and he gave a letter to
Havel to hand to his cousin the landlord at the next change, which, he
said, would be sure to secure them the best of accommodation and good
horses.

As the night grew to morning, Ma