The minutes dragged on like hours, as they always do in affairs of this nature. I chafed at the restraint of my position, and had no intention of acting the eavesdropper longer than I could help it, but for the moment I was forced to lie in ambush. All was quiet and still, so still that some mice came out, and sought for such crumbs as they could find on the floor around the dining-table. Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps along the passage. In a flash the mice had vanished, and two men entered the room. They were the landlord and De Ganache, the latter booted and spurred and wearing the hat that was lent to him, or rather given to him, this morning. He sat down on a chair at the dining-table, and placed his hat beside him, running his fingers through the red plumes. "_Eh bien_," he said, with a laugh, "Monsieur there sleeps soundly. It will be a great awakening in the morning. I should not advise you to be here, Pechaud." And with this he turned up the lantern, so that the light fell more strongly on his clear-cut face and blue eyes. He was a handsome man, and one well formed to win a woman's heart; but with all this there were the marks of a weak and irresolute nature on his countenance, and as I looked I thought to myself that here was one who, if he fell, would fall utterly. Pechaud the landlord, who stood respectfully near De Ganache, laughed too as he heard the Vicomte's words. "I shall be careful, monsieur," he said. "My only fear is that they will find it so difficult to follow that they may stay here indefinitely." "The trooper is a knave for all that, and deserves to hang; but it was well conceived--the cutting of the saddlery." And then they both laughed again. I had a mind to join in their humour, and it was hard to refrain from chuckling a little on my own account. "'Tis a pity you could not get mademoiselle's horse." "It was impossible, monsieur; but you will find mine carry her as well, and it is even now ready. "Well; it does not much matter." And rising De Ganache opened the window and looked forth. "It is a night of stars," he said, "and dark. Lord! if we but had a moon!" "Monsieur will find the guide lead you well." "I want no guide on my own lands, Pechaud. Night and day are one to me when I ride across them. But this guide: who is he?" "I myself, monsieur." "You! And yet, perhaps, 'tis as well; but I fear me, old friend, that the sky will be red behind us with the flames of this good inn; they will not forego that revenge." "Let it be so, monsieur. My ancestors have followed yours for two centuries, and taken the good with the bad--and I am as they are; you know this." De Ganache looked at him, and as I heard this faithful retainer's words I began to understand the force that my opponent had on his side. After a moment's pause Pechaud continued: