“I acted for the best,” growled Augustine Vadier; “that cursed Englishman, Lieutenant Thornton, who is the very same who had the care of the casket in Toulon, was preparing to escape with that other Englishman living under the name of Lebeau. Who he is I cannot imagine; Madame Coulancourt has had him concealed in the château, and I was told was seen embracing him.” “The diable!” interrupted Bertram Gramont, with a start. “Not a lover, surely, at her age, and with such a youth; are you sure of this, Vadier? I really am sorry to hear that you will lose the sight of your eye.” “Lose the sight! Curse it, man, it’s knocked clean out,” exclaimed Vadier; “but if I can get on my legs soon, I will manage with the other. I am sure of what I say,” continued the wounded man. “They little suspect that their servant-girl, one of old Dame Moret’s farm domestics, is a spy upon them.” “What induced you to attempt to entrap this Englishman before my return?” asked Monsieur Gramont. “Because I found out that this Lieutenant Thornton and this Louis Lebeau, whose Christian name is, however, Julian——” “Julian! Julian!” repeated Bertram Gramont, with a start. “By the saints, I have it! No, no, he’s no lover. Julian! Yes, that’s the name of Madame Coulancourt’s son, supposed to have been killed amongst the good people of Lyons at the time D’Herbois shot them down like rooks. I trust Sergeant Perrin has secured him, at all events?” “Not he; that cursed Jean Plessis is too wide awake for that. He’s gone—where, I can’t say—but he left the château on a pony last night with a boy called Joseph.” “Then he will be easily traced, so all is right there. How did you contrive to get this girl to betray the secrets of a mistress so well loved as Madame Coulancourt? I suppose you made love to her.” “Not such a fool as that,” muttered Vadier. “You can never lay aside your jokes, not even when your deepest interests are concerned.” “Possibly not, mon ami,” returned Monsieur le Maire, with a laugh, “it’s not very long ago since it was the fashion to bandy bon mots with the executioner, when he was adjusting your head for that interesting receptacle, the box under the guillotine. However, you see,” continued Monsieur Gramont, “one of the consequences of your interfering is that this Lieutenant Thornton, who was one of those who failed in cutting out the Vengeance in Havre Roads, tried it again last night, and, by Jove, he has got her, and the Hermaphrodite armed brig, of Bordeaux, with a valuable cargo. If you had left him alone till my return, this would have been prevented.” “How so?” returned Vadier. “I do not see that; for he and that pretended Pierre Bompart were evidently seeking to communicate with the corvette when I thought to entrap them.”