please me."

"He comes to Paris, and may be dealt with there. What of Bruslart's
messenger?"

"I saw no sign of him."

"Yet they journey from the coast and must have passed him on the road.
He was beyond moving of his own accord."

"Do you mean they helped him?"

"Some one has. We were fools to allow ourselves to be disturbed before
completing our work."

"Why did you not question the landlord or the men themselves?"

"Time enough for that," Sabatier answered. "Two men against two gives no
odds to depend upon. Ride on toward Paris and send me back a dozen
patriots, no matter where you find them. There are some in the
neighborhood who have tasted blood in burning a château, whisper that
there are aristocrats in Trémont. They shall find me by that farm
yonder, snatching an hour's sleep in the straw maybe. Then get you to
Villefort, where Mercier and Dubois are waiting. Bid them watch that
road. Possibly the messenger was not so helpless as we imagined."

Jacques Sabatier did not move until the sound of his comrade's horse
had died into silence, then he went toward the farm, tethered his horse,
and threw himself down on the straw in a dilapidated barn. Sleep must be
taken when it could be got. The days and nights were too full for