"Listen, then," said the Englishman, whispering a few words in the postilion's ear. "What a funny idea!" exclaimed that young man, laughing. "Will you accept my offer?" "Really--" "If you will, here are twenty francs. You shall have the rest when you get to the appointed place. After all, what risk do you run? There is no harm in it." "None in the world, but it is such a funny idea. It isn't the first time I've heard of the like, though. What do you think I saw in Dieppe the other day? Those privateersmen--my! how they make their money fly!--did the queerest things! I saw some of them offer twenty-five napoleons to an old sacristan to dress himself up like a woman in a furbelowed dress and a plumed hat and then drive about the town in a cab with them." "What else could you expect, my good fellow? Sailors are on shore too seldom not to amuse themselves according to their fancy, provided it doesn't injure anybody. You agree, don't you?" "Oh, well, it isn't worth while to have any scruples when one has to deal with a passenger who eats panada and doesn't drink wine, I admit, so--" "So here are twenty francs," added Russell, slipping a gold piece into the postilion's hand. "You shall have as much more presently." "All right, but make haste, for the place is a good league from here. Take the first road to the left." A moment afterward the two strangers had disappeared. * * * * * About a quarter of an hour afterward, while the postilion was doing his best to restrain the gambols of the Friar and his mate, the proprietor of the Imperial Eagle appeared in the doorway and cried: "Mount, my boy, mount! Here comes the gentleman!" "The devil!" muttered Jean Pierre, climbing slowly into the saddle. "My milk-drinker is in a dreadful hurry all of a sudden. I sha'n't be able to get my horses there fast enough, now, I suppose." As he spoke, he guided his horses up to the door of the inn, and the traveller stepped into the vehicle. The landlord bowed respectfully to his patron, and as he closed the carriage door called out to the postilion: "Drive along, Jean Pierre, monsieur is in a hurry." "You shall just fly along, monsieur," replied Jean Pierre, cracking his whip noisily. They traversed the town at a gallop and soon reached the highway, but they had gone only a couple of hundred yards when the postilion checked his horses abruptly, and, turning in his saddle, seemed to be waiting for something. The traveller, surprised at this sudden stop, lowered one of the windows, and asked: "Well, what's the matter?" "What's the matter?" "Yes." "I've no idea, I'm sure." "You don't know?" "I'm sure I don't." "But why did you stop?" "Because you called to me to stop." "I did?" "Yes, and so I stopped." "You are mistaken, I didn't call you." "Yes, you did, monsieur." "But I tell you I didn't. So go on, and try to make up for the time you have lost."