arated. The baron mounted one of the horses left
behind by the brigands, and with the men from la Vallee started
for Pointdexter; while Desmond, with Mike Callaghan, rode back to
Aubusson.

There they slept for a few hours, and then obtained fresh horses
and started for Moulins, where they arrived late in the evening.
They alighted at the Soleil, where Desmond had ordered the two
men, who had gone on from Roanne, to bring the body of Monsieur de
la Vallee.

"The gentleman is not here, sir," the landlord said, as he came to
the door. "He was brought into the town by the men sent out by the
mayor. As, by his dress, he was evidently a gentleman of quality,
they took him straight to the Couronne."

"Was he alive?"

"Yes, sir; but, as I hear, the surgeons are unable to decide yet
whether he will live. The men you sent here arrived the day after
he was brought in. They told me that you would return, and put
their horses here, but they are now in attendance on the wounded
gentleman, who, it seems, is their lord."

"Thank God, he is alive!" Desmond exclaimed. "I have news for him
that will do more than the surgeons can to restore him to
himself."

Leaving Mike to see the horses stabled, he hurried away to the
other hotel. He sent up his name, and one of the surgeons came
down.

"Monsieur de la Vallee is very ill," he said, "although his wound
is not necessarily mortal. This morning we succeeded in extracting
the ball, but he is in a terribly weak state. He is unable to
speak above a whisper, and does not seem to care to make any
effort. It would appear that he even does not wish to live."

"I have news that will put fresh life into him."

"Then by all means go in and see him, sir. We have thought that he
is fast sinking; but if the news you bring can rouse him into
making an effort to live, he may yet recover. I will go in and
give him a strong restorative, and tell him that you are here."

In three or four minutes, he came to the door of the chamber, and
beckoned to Desmond to enter.

"The sound of your name has roused him from the lethargy, into
which he seemed sinking," he whispered. "When I told him that I
could not allow you to enter, until he had taken the draught that
I gave him, he swallowed it eagerly."

Desmond went up to the bedside, and took the hand which lay on the
coverlet. The pressure was slightly returned, and Philip's lips
moved, but he spoke so faintly that Desmond had to lean over him,
to