ied the secretary, "unless you prefer to go by the road I've
sent your fellow." And being a discreet youth, Jean made off in silence
by the street down which poor Blaise had been dragged.

"Carom" cried Duhamel, in a frenzy of apprehension. "I tremble for you,
my son. Fly from Bellecour at once--now, this very instant. Go to my
friends at Amiens; they will--"

But Caron had already left his side to repair to the spot where Marie
was lying. The peasantry followed him, though leisurely, in their timid
hesitation. They were asking themselves whether, even so remotely as by
tending the girl, they dared participate in the violence La Boulaye had
committed. That a swift vengeance would be the Seigneur's answer
they were well assured, and a great fear possessed them that in that
vengeance those of the Chateau might lack discrimination. Charlot was
amongst them, and on his feet, but still too dazed to have a clear
knowledge of the circumstances. Presently, however, his faculties
awakening and taking in the situation, he staggered forward, and came
lurching towards La Boulaye, who was assisting the frightened Marie to
rise. With a great sob the girl flung herself into her husband's arms.

"Charlot, mon Charlot!" she cried, and added a moment later: "It was
he--this brave gentleman--who rescued me."

"Monsieur," said Charlot, "I shall remember it to my dying day."

He would have said more, but the peasants, stirred by fear, now roused
themselves and plucked at his coat.

"Get you gone, Charlot, Get you gone quickly," they advised him. "And if
you are wise you will leave Bellecour without delay. It is not safe for
you here."

"It is not safe for any of us," exclaimed one. "I have no mind to be
caught when the Seigneur returns. There will be a vengeance. Ah Dieu!
what a vengeance!"

The warning acted magically. There were hurried leave-takings, and then,
like a parcel of scuttling rabbits, they made for their burrows to hide
from the huntsman that would not be long in coming. And ere the last of
them was out of sight there arose a stamping of hoofs and a chorus
of angry voices. Down tine street thundered the Marquis's cavalcade,
brought back by the servant who had escaped and who had ridden after
them. Some anger there was--particularly in the heart of the Lord of
Bellecour--but greater than their anger was their excitement at the
prospect of a man-hunt, with which the chase on which they had been
originally bent made but