The desperadoes were as much astonished as was De Catinat when they found that they had recaptured in this extraordinary manner the messenger whom they had given up for lost. A volley of oaths and exclamations broke from them, as, on tearing off the huge red coat of the coachman, they disclosed the sombre dress of the young American.

“A thousand thunders!” cried one. “And this is the man whom that devil’s brat Latour would make out to be dead!”

“And how came he here?”

“And where is Etienne Arnaud?”

“He has stabbed Etienne. See the great cut in the coat!”

“Ay; and see the colour of his hand! He has stabbed him, and taken his coat and hat.”

“What! while we were all within stone’s cast!”

“Ay; there is no other way out of it.”

“By my soul!” cried old Despard, “I had never much love for old Etienne, but I have emptied a cup of wine with him before now, and I shall see that he has justice. Let us cast these reins round the fellow’s neck and hang him upon this tree.”

Several pairs of hands were already unbuckling the harness of the dead horse, when De Vivonne pushed his way into the little group, and with a few curt words checked their intended violence.

“It is as much as your lives are worth to touch him,” said he.

“But he has slain Etienne Arnaud.”

“That score may be settled afterwards. To-night he is the king’s messenger. Is the other all safe?”

“Yes, he is here.”

“Tie this man, and put him in beside him. Unbuckle the traces of the dead horse. So! Now, De Carnac, put your own into the harness. You can mount the box and drive, for we have not very far to go.”

The changes were rapidly made; Amos Green was thrust in beside De Catinat, and the carriage was soon toiling up the steep incline which it had come down so precipitately. The American had said not a word since his capture, and had remained absolutely stolid, with his hands crossed over his chest whilst his fate was under discussion. Now that he was alone once more with his comrade, however, he frowned and muttered like a man who feels that fortune has used him badly.

“Those infernal horses!” he grumbled. “Why, an American horse would have taken to the water like a duck. Many a time have I swum my old stallion Sagamore across the Hudson. Once over the river, we should have had a clear lead to Paris.”

“My dear friend,” cried De Catinat, laying his manacled hands upon those of his comrade, “can you forgive me for speaking as I did upon the way from Versailles?”

“Tut, man! I never gave it a thought.”

“You were right a thousand times, and I was, as you said, a fool—a blind, obstinate fool. How nobly you have stood by me! But how came you there? Never in my life have I been so astonished as when I saw your face.”

Amos Green chuckled to himself. “I thought that maybe it would be a surprise to you if you knew who was driving you,” said he. “When I was thrown from my horse I lay quiet, partly because I wanted to get a grip of my breath, and partly because it seemed to me to be more healthy to lie than to stand with all those swords clinking in my ears. Then they all got round you, and I rolled into the ditch, crept along it, got on the cross-road in the shadow of the trees, and was beside the carriage before ever they knew that I was gone. I saw in a flash that there was only one way by which I could be of use to you. The coachman was leaning round with his head turned to see what was going on behind him. I out with my knife, sprang up on the front wheel, and stopped his tongue forever.”

“What! without a sound!”

“I have not lived among the Indians for nothing.”

“And then?”

“I pulled him down into the ditch, and I got into his coat and his hat. I did not scalp him.”

“Scalp him? Great heavens! Such things are only done among savages.”

“Ah! I thought that maybe it was not the custom of the country. I am glad now that I did not do it. I had hardly got the reins before they were all back and bundled you into the coach. I was not afraid of their seeing me, but I was scared lest I should not know which road to take, and so set them on the trail. But they made it easy to me by sending some of their riders in front, so I did well until I saw that by-track and made a run for it. We’d have got away, too, if that rogue hadn’t shot the horse, and if the beasts had faced the water.”

The guardsman again pressed his comrade’s hands. “You have been as true to me as hilt to blade,” said he. “It was a bold thought and a bold deed.”

“And what now?” asked the American.

“I do not know who these men are, and I do not know whither they are taking us.”

“To their villages, likely, to burn us.”

De Catinat laughed in spite of his anxiety. “You will have it that we are back in America again,” said he. “They don’t do things in that way in France.”

“They seem free enough with hanging in France. I tell you, I felt like a smoked-out ‘coon when that trace was round my neck.”

“I fancy that they are taking us to some place where they can shut us up until this business blows over.”

“Well, they’ll need to be smart about it.”

“Why?”

“Else maybe they won’t find us when they want us.”

“What do you mean?”

For answer, the American, with a twist and a wriggle, drew his two hands apart, and held them in front of his comrade’s face.

“Bless you, it is the first thing they teach the papooses in an Indian wigwam. I’ve got out of a Huron’s thongs of raw hide before now, and it ain’t very likely that a stiff stirrup leather will hold me. Put your hands out.” With a few dexterous twists he loosened De Catinat’s bonds, until he also was able to slip his hands free. “Now for your feet, if you’ll put them up. They’ll find that we are easier to catch than to hold.”

But at that moment the carriage began to slow down, and the clank of the hoofs of the riders in front of them died suddenly away. Peeping through the windows, the prisoners saw a huge dark building stretching in front of them, so high and so broad that the night shrouded it in upon every side. A great archway hung above them, and the lamps shone on the rude wooden gate, studded with ponderous clamps and nails. In the upper part of the door was a small square iron grating, and through this they could catch a glimpse of the gleam of a lantern and of a bearded face which looked out at them. De Vivonne, standing in his stirrups, craned his neck up towards the grating, so that the two men most interested could hear little of the conversation which followed. They saw only that the horseman held a gold ring up in the air, and that the face above, which had begun by shaking and frowning, was now nodding and smiling. An instant later the head disappeared, the door swung open upon screaming hinges, and the carriage drove on into the courtyard beyond, leaving the escort, with the exception of De Vivonne, outside. As the horses pulled up, a knot of rough fellows clustered round, an............