se still in the stable. He had supped at the
ordinary with one or two others, and the landlady noticed he had eaten
ravenously, as one might who had fasted long; had drunk copiously,
too, of _petite Bourgogne_, and had then gone out, saying he would be
back shortly. Also, one thing was curious. "_Mon Dieu!_" the woman
said, "it was remarkable!" He had given orders that, after his horse
was rubbed down and fed, it was to be kept saddled. He might, he said,
have to set forth again at any moment; he was on important business.
Yet now, the woman stated, the horse was still in its stall and the
man had never returned.

"And his necessaries?" St. Georges asked, after he had told the people
of the house as much as he deemed fit. "What of them? His bags, his
holsters, where are they? Were they taken to his room or left with his
horse?"

"Necessaries! bags!" the landlord replied, "he had none. And as for
pistols--well--the holsters were empty; doubtless he had them about
him. Perhaps monsieur would like to see the horse?"

Yes, monsieur would like to see the horse, and was consequently taken
to the stable to do so. It was a poor beast, not groomed properly for
some days; at least, it looked poor and overstrained now, though
perhaps a good enough animal when fresh. It showed signs, too, of
having been hard ridden. For the rest, it was an ordinary animal of
the most usual colour--a dark chestnut.

As to the holsters, they were empty, and in none of the horse's
trappings was there aught to give any hint as to who its owner was or
whence he had come.

CHAPTER XIII.

DE ROQUEMAURE'S WORK.

The weather had changed, the frost was gone, and the night was hot and
murky, while rain was falling, as alone, now, alas! St. Georges
mounted the summit of a hill that rose close above Troyes on the road
to Paris.

He had commenced his journey again.

It was a gruesome spot to which he had arrived on this night--an
elevation that surmounted a billowy country, over all of which, in the
summer time, the vines and corn grew in rich profusion, but which now
looked bare and melancholy as the southwest wind swept the rain clouds
over it beneath a watery moon. To the left of him there swung, upon
the exact crest of the hill, a corpse in chains, with, perched upon
its mouldering head, a crow--looking for the eyes long since pecked
out by others of its brood! To the right there rose a little wood,
through which the wind moaned and sigh