she was, yet that glance of La Boulaye's had ruled
her strangely, and she was content to now await developments.

"We will see what we can do," answered La Boulaye, as he made room for
them by the hearth. "Come, Mathilde, let us try what the larder will
yield."

"I am afraid that Madame still mistrusts us," deplored Des Cadoux.

La Boulaye laughed for answer as he gently but firmly drew her towards
the door leading to the interior of the house. He held it for her to
pass, what time his eyes were set in an intent but puzzled glance upon
the courier. There was something about the man that was not wholly
strange to La Boulaye. That morning, when he had spoken in the gruff
accents of one of the rabble, no suspicion had entered the Deputy's
mind that he was other than he seemed, for all that he now recalled how
Tardivet had found the fellow's patriotism a little too patriotic. Now
that he spoke in the voice that was naturally usual to him, it seemed to
La Boulaye that it contained a note that he had heard before.

Still puzzled, he passed out of the room to be questioned sharply by the
woman of the house touching his motives for passing himself off as her
husband and inviting the new-comers to enter.

"I promise you their stay will be a very brief one," he answered. "I
have suspicions to verify the ends to serve, as you shall see. Will
you do me the favour to go out by the back and call my men? Tell the
corporal to make his way to the front of the house, and to hold himself
in readiness to enter the moment I call him."

"What are you about to do?" she asked and the face, as he saw it by the
light of the candle she held, wore an expression of sullen disapproval.

He reassured her that there would be no bloodshed, and suggested that
the men were dangerous characters whom it might be ill for her to
entertain. And so at last he won his way, and she went to do his errand,
whilst he reentered the kitchen.

He found Des Cadoux by the fire, intent upon drying as much of himself
as possible. The younger man had seized upon the bottle of brandy that
had been left on the table, and was in the act of filling himself a
second glass. Nothing could be further from the mind of either than
a suspicion of the identity of this rustically-clad and grimy-faced
fellow.

"Mathilde will be here in a moment," said Caron deferentially. "She is
seeking something for you."

Had he told them precisely what she was seeking they had been, possi