, monsieur, and loaded."

"Into the saddle then! Have you the password, Felix?"

"Yes; 'tis _Roche Abeille_."

"A good choice! 'Tis an omen of success. Have you any idea of the proper
direction?"

"I can find the way easily to Arnay-le-Duc; I have had a long talk with
one of the couriers."

Having passed our last outpost, where we stayed to chat for a moment
with the officer in command, we proceeded at a brisk pace, my comrade
feeling assured that we should not meet an enemy during the first six
miles. After that distance we went more slowly and with greater caution,
for if the marshal was really at Arnay-le-Duc, his patrols were probably
scouring the neighbourhood.

About four miles from the town we entered the street of a straggling
village. It was a half after ten; the lights in the cottages were out;
the villagers had retired to bed.

"Shall we do any good by knocking up the landlord of the inn?" I asked.

"What say you, Jacques?"

"We shall probably learn the village gossip, and if the marshal is
anywhere near Arnay-le-Duc it will be known here."

"True," said my comrade; "let us lead the animals into the yard.
Edmond, hammer at the door!"

The landlord was in bed, but he came down quickly, and, having shown us
into his best room, proceeded to draw the wine which Felix ordered.

"You are in bed early," I remarked on his return. "Have you no guests in
the house?"

"None, monsieur."

"We expected to meet with some of the king's troops here: have they
passed through already?"

"There have been no soldiers in the village, monsieur."

"But surely they are close at hand!"

"If monsieur means Marshal Cosse's army, it is ten miles off. At least
Philippe said so when he came home this evening."

"Who is Philippe?"

"He lives in the village, monsieur; he could guide you to the soldiers.
Shall I fetch him?"

"Yes," I replied, "and waste no time. Jacques," and I glanced at my
servant meaningly, "you might go with the worthy host."

They returned in less than half an hour, bringing with them a short,
thin man, spare in build, but tough and wiry. His eyes were sharp and
bright, and his face was shrewd and full of intelligence.

"Are you a good Catholic, Philippe?" I asked.

His glance passed from me to Felix and back again so swiftly that he
might never have taken his gaze from my face. Then he said with the most
natural hesitation in the world, and as if fully expecting to suffer for
his confessio