"That's just what those other cavaliers said, when they turned up here about an hour ago. A noisy crowd they were. I had no room for them in my house, so they had to go." St. Genis at once put down his knife and fork. "A noisy crowd of travellers," he exclaimed, "who arrived here an hour ago?" "Parbleu!" rejoined the other, "and all wanting beds too. I had no room. I can only put up one or two travellers. I sent them on to Levasseur's, further along the road. Only the wounded man I could not turn away. He is up in our best bedroom." "A wounded man? You have a wounded man here, petit père?" "Oh! it's not much of a wound," explained the old man with unconscious irrelevance. "He himself calls it a mere scratch. But my old woman took a fancy to him: he is young and well-looking, you understand. . . . She is clever at bandages too, so she has looked after him as if he were her own son." Mechanically, St. Genis had once more taken up his knife and fork, though of a truth the last of his hunger had vanished. But these Dauphiné peasants were suspicious and queer-tempered, and already the young man's surprise had matured into a plan which he would not be able to carry through without the help of Aristide Briot. Noisy cavaliers--he mused to himself--a wounded man! . . . wounded by the stray shot aimed at him by Crystal de Cambray! Indeed, St. Genis had much ado to keep his excitement in check, and to continue with a pretence at eating while Briot watched him with stolid indifference. "Petit père," said the young man at last with as much unconcern as he could affect. "I have been thinking that you have--unwittingly--given me an excellent piece of news. I do believe that the man in your best bedroom upstairs is a friend of mine whom I was to have met at Lyons to-day and whose absence from our place of tryst had made me very anxious. I was imagining that all sorts of horrors had happened to him, for he is in the secret service of the King and exposed to every kind of danger. His being wounded in some skirmish either with highway robbers or with a band of the Corsican's pirates would not surprise me in the least, and the fact that he had some half-dozen mounted men with him confirms me in my belief that indeed it is my friend who is lying upstairs, as he often has to have an escort in the exercise of his duties. At any rate, petit père," he concluded as he rose from the table, "by your leave, I'll go up and ascertain." While he rattled off these pretty proceeds of his own imagination, Maurice de St. Genis kept a sharp watch on Aristide Briot's face, ready to note the slightest sign of suspicion should it creep into the old man's shrewd eyes. Briot, however, did not exhibit any violent interest in his guest's story, and when the latter had finished speaking he merely said, pointing to the remnants of food upon the table: "I thought you said that you were hungry."