He sighed before replying, and passing his brown, nervous hand
across his brow, he found it moist.

"My name, M. l"hote, is Crispin Galliard. What news have you
for me?"

"A gentleman - a countryman of milord's - has been here these
three days awaiting him."

For a little while Crispin sat quite still, stripped of his
last rag of hope. Then suddenly bracing himself, he sprang up,
despite his weakness.

"Bring him to me. I will see him at once."

"Tout-a-l"heure, monsieur," replied the landlord. "At the
moment he is absent. He went out to take the air a couple of
hours ago, and is not yet returned."

"Heaven send he has walked into the sea!" Crispin broke out
passionately. Then as passionately he checked himself. "No,
no, my God - not that! I meant not that."

"Monsieur will sup?"

"At once, and let me have lights." The host withdrew, to
return a moment later with a couple of lighted tapers, which he
set upon the table.