At dinner, to Edouard’s great delight, another hunt was proposed, and it furnished a topic for conversation during dinner and part of the evening. By ten o’clock, as usual, all had retired to their rooms, except Roland, who was in that of Sir John. The difference of character showed itself markedly in the preparations of the two men. Roland had made them joyously, as if for a pleasure trip; Sir John made his gravely, as if for a duel. He loaded his pistols with the utmost care and put them into his belt English fashion. And, instead of a cloak, which might have impeded his movements, he wore a top-coat with a high collar put on over his other coat. At half-past ten the pair left the house with the same precautions that Roland had observed when alone. It was five minutes before eleven when they reached the broken window, where the fallen stones served as a stepping-block. There, according to agreement, they were to part. Sir John, reminded Roland of this agreement. “Yes,” said Roland, “an agreement is an agreement with me. Only, let me give you a piece of advice.” “What is it?” “I could not find the bullets because some one had been here and carried them off; and that was done beyond doubt to prevent me from seeing the dents on them.” “What sort of dent do you mean?” “Those of the links of a coat of mail; my ghost was a man in armor.” “That’s too bad!” said Sir John; “I hoped for a ghost.” Then, after a moment’s silence and a sigh expressive of his deep regret in resigning the ghost, he asked: “What was your advice?” “Fire at his face!” Sir John nodded assent, pressed the young officer’s hand, clambered through the window and disappeared in the sacristy. “Good-night!” called Roland after him. Then with the indifference to danger which a soldier generally feels for himself and his companions, Roland took his way back to the Château des Noires-Fontaines, as he had promised Sir John. CHAPTER XVIII. THE TRIAL The next day Roland, who had been unable to sleep till about two in the morning, woke about seven. Collecting his scattered wits, he recalled what had passed between Sir John and himself the night before, and was astonished that the Englishman had not wakened him. He dressed hastily and went to Sir John’s room at the risk of rousing him from his first sleep. He knocked at the door. Sir John made no answer. Roland knocked again, louder this time. The same silence. This time some uneasiness mingled with Roland’s curiosity. The key was on the outside; the young officer opened the door, and cast a rapid glance around the room. Sir John was not there; he had not returned. The bed was undisturbed. What had happened?