ll haste." And at
Chambery, at the Golden Lamb, did he arrive with a speed which few save
himself knew how to compass. Scarcely had he entered the arched doorway
of the inn, than a traveller, preceded by his luggage, met him.
They bowed, as people do who encounter in a passage, but without
acquaintance; and yet in that brief courtesy the stranger had time to
slip a letter into M'Cas-key's hand, who passed in with all the ease
and unconcern imaginable. Having ordered dinner, he went to his room to
dress, and then, locking his door, he read:--

"The Cabinet courier of the English Government will pass Chambery on
the night of Saturday the 18th, or on the morning of Sunday the 19th. He
will be the bearer of three despatch-bags, two large and one small one,
bearing the letters F. O. and the number 18 on it. You are to possess
yourself of this, if possible--the larger bags are not required. If you
succeed, make for Naples by whatever route you deem best and speediest,
bearing in mind that the loss may possibly be known at Turin within a
brief space.

"If the contents be as suspected, and all goes well, you are a made man.

"C. C."

M'Caskey read this over three several times, dwelling each time on the
same places, and then he arose and walked leisurely up and down the
room. He then took out his guide-book and saw that a train started for
St. Jean de Maurienne at six, arriving at eight,--a short train, not
in correspondence with any other; and as the railroad ended there, the
remainder of the journey, including the passage of Mont Cenis, must be
performed by carriage. Of course, it was in this short interval the feat
must be accomplished, if at all.

The waiter announced "his Excellency's" dinner while he thus cogitated,
and he descended and dined heartily; he even ordered a bottle of very
rare chambertin, which stood at eighteen francs in the _carte_. He
sipped his wine at his ease; he had full an hour before the train
started, and he had time for reflection as well as enjoyment.

"You are to possess yourself of this," muttered he, reading from a
turned-down part of the note. "Had you been writing to any other man in
Europe, Signor Conte Caffarelli, you would have been profuse enough of
your directions; you would have said, 'You are to shoot this fellow; you
are to waylay him; you are to have him attacked and come to his rescue,'
and a-score more of such-like contrivances; but--to me--to me--there was
none of this. It