“Why, this is not Bourbon!” cried Warthy, regarding the prisoner. “I told your men so, captain,” replied Hugues--for it was he--“but they wouldn't believe me.” “Go down again instantly, and make further search,” roared Warthy. “He is there.” “There was no one in the vault but this man, whom we took to be Bourbon in disguise,” replied one of the soldiers. “Has the vault an outlet?” demanded Warthy. “Oh yes,” returned the soldier, “there is a door at the farther end, but it is locked.” “Then I have lost my prize,” cried Warthy. “He has escaped. You shall be hanged, rascal, for assisting the traitor,” he added, furiously, to Hugues. “Give me my life, captain, and I'll tell you where to find him,” rejoined the prisoner. “If you utter a word, you need think no more of me, Hugues,” said Madelon. “Heed her not, fellow,” said Warthy. “Better lose your mistress than your life.” “I am quite of your opinion, captain,” rejoined Hugues. “I don't like the thought of a halter. On the understanding, then, that I am to be spared----” “Recollect what the consequences will be,” interrupted Madelon. “Avoid the rope, if you are wise,” said Warthy. “I mean to do so, captain,” replied Hugues. “His highness the Constable and his companion have taken refuge in the mill.” “Miserable craven!” exclaimed Madelon, scornfully. “Hanging is too good for you.” “If you have misinformed me, you know the fate that awaits you,” said Warthy to Hugues. “To the mill!” Just as he was about to quit the house, a sudden glare filled the room, rendering every object as visible as it would have been in broad day. No doubt could exist as to the cause of this illumination. “Gracious Heavens! the mill is on fire!” exclaimed Benoit. The shouts of the men-at-arms outside confirmed the truth of the ejaculation, and the guard stationed at the door vociferated, “The mill is on fire, captain!” “Take care no one escapes from it,” roared Warthy, in reply. “Powers of mercy! what an accident!” exclaimed Hugues, his countenance reflecting the horror depicted on the faces of all around. “The Constable de Bourbon will be burnt to death!” “No, no, he won't,” cried Warthy, who remained perfectly calm, even at this exciting moment. “But he will be forced out of his hiding-place.” On this he quitted the house with his men, leaving a guard outside the door. No sooner was he gone than Hugues went up to the miller, who looked almost stupified, and clapping him on the shoulder, said, with a grin, “I set the mill on fire, père Benoit.” “You did!” exclaimed the miller; “a nice piece of work you've done. And you make a joke of it, rascal--you laugh.” “Laugh! to be sure. And so will you, père Benoit, when you know why I set it on fire.” “Mother of Heaven! how it burns!” exclaimed Margot, as the glare momentarily increased in brilliancy, and the roaring of the flames and the crackling of the timber could be distinctly heard.