rom peasant to preacher, from
preacher to soldier, and from soldier to--what?

A shrewd suspicion was being borne in upon La Boulaye's mind as he
stood by that window, his men behind him watching also, with no less
intentness and some uneasiness for themselves--for they misliked the
look of the company.

In five seconds Charlot had restored order in the human chaos without.
In five minutes there were but ten men left in the yard. The others
were gone at Charlot's bidding--a bidding, couched in words that went to
confirm La Boulaye's suspicions.

"You will get back to your posts at once," he had said. "Because we
have made one rich capture is no reason why you should neglect the
opportunities of making others no less rich. You, Moulinet, with twenty
men, shall patrol the road to Charleroi, and get as near France as
possible. You Boligny, station yourself in the neighbourhood of Conde,
with ten men, and guard the road from Valenciennes. You, Aigreville,
spread your twenty men from Conde to Tournay, and watch the frontiers
closely. Make an inspection of any captures you may take, and waste no
time in bringing hither worthless ones. Now go. I will see that each
man's share of this is assured him. March!"

There were some shouts of "Vive la Republique!" some of "Vive le
Captaine Charlot!" and so they poured out of the yard, and left him to
give a few hurried directions to the ten men that remained.

"Sad invalids these, as I live!" exclaimed La Boulaye over his shoulder
to his followers. "Ha! There is my friend of the red redingote!"

The fellow with the bandaged head had approached Charlot and was tugging
at his sleeve.

"Let be, you greasy rascal," the Captain snapped at him, to add: "What
do you say? A Deputy? Where?" The fellow pointed with his thumb in the
direction of the hostelry.

"Sacred name of a name!" growled Charlot, and, turning suddenly from the
men to whom he had been issuing directions, he sprang up the steps and
entered the inn. As he crossed the threshold of the common room he was
confronted by the tall figure of La Boulaye.

"I make you my compliments, Charlot," was Caron's greeting, "upon the
vigorous health that appears to prevail in your hospital."

Tardivet stood a moment within the doorway, staring at the Deputy. Then
his brow cleared, and with a laugh, at once of welcome and amusement, he
strode forward and put out his hand.

"My good Caron!" he cried. "To meet you at Boisvert is a plea