"What is his business with you, Monsieur Tournon? I do not know," replied Pierrot la Grange. "What he came hither for was to bring letters or messages from England; and as to who or what he is or was, that is very simple. He is Lord Montagu's page." "And his name?" asked the syndic. "We used to call him Master Ned," replied Pierrot. "That was when I was with the English army in the Isle de Rhé; but his name by rights, I believe, is Edward Langdale." The old man continued silent; and Pierrot, whose tendency to loquacity easily broke bounds, went on to tell how Etienne Jargeau had received, some days before, information that Master Ned would arrive upon the coast on business of importance, with directions to have a small beacon-fire lighted that night, and every night after, on a little hill just above the _trou bourbé_, till the lad appeared. "You know Jargeau used to be a retainer of the Prince de Soubise, monsieur," Pierrot continued; "but of late he has left his service and has gone over--some say bought--to the French party." "I trust we are all of the true French party," replied Monsieur Tournon. "But the lad landed last night, you say. Had he no baggage with him?" "Yes, two large leather bags with padlocks on them," rejoined Pierrot: "they are left safe under lock and key at the Coq d'Or, where we were obliged to rest last night because the guard was so sound asleep that we could not wake them to let us in." "Ay? so sluggardly? This must be amended," said the syndic. "At the Coq d'Or, in the suburb? That is no safe place for such bags." "So I was just thinking," replied Pierrot: "I will go up and fetch them. He has got the key of the room in his pocket." The worthy gentleman made a movement toward the bed, as if to take the key; but Clement Tournon stopped him with a somewhat sarcastic smile, saying, "If the Coq d'Or is no safe depository, Pierrot la Grange is no safe messenger." The man's face flushed. "You do me wrong, sir!" he exclaimed. "Bad enough I may be; but I never stole a thing in my life." "Not a cup of brandy?" asked the syndic, with another smile. Pierrot laughed. "Fair booty, fair booty!" he cried: "strong waters are fair booty everywhere, monsieur." "Well, I suspect you of nothing worse," replied Tournon; "but, if you were once to go for the bags, Heaven knows when we should see you again; and then you would come without the bags; for there would be plenty of people to lighten you of your load. Besides, the people of the cabaret would not let you take them. I will send my head-polisher with you and give him an order to receive the baggage in my name. They dare not refuse my order. Get the key gently. I do not love putting my hands into other people's pockets."