Mabel made no reply; at that moment her thoughts were occupied. Madame Coulancourt was conversing with Madame Plessis, whilst Jean Plessis and the captain of the Ca-Ira were in close consultation. Having proceeded up the river as far as the village of Eure, the chasse-mare furled her sails and let go her anchor. It was nearly sunset, and a light-grey mist—a sign of a still, hot night—began to steal up from the water and creep lightly over the land. The row-boat, which had carefully followed them at a safe distance, saw the chasse-mare anchor, whilst yet there was flood-tide to run farther up, now pulled in shore, and Augustine Vadier and one of the crew took the road to the village, about five hundred yards from the western shore of the river. Having reached within a short distance of the road that led up from the river to the village, they stationed themselves behind a hedge, observing every person that passed along that road. Presently they perceived two young men, in sailor’s attire, come out from a cabaret, and take their way towards the water. “Ha!” said Augustine Vadier, “I should say that tall one is the Master Louis Lebeau we seek.” “Parbleu!” said the sailor, “he may be; but I know that the short one is Pierre Leveque, one of the crew of the Ca-Ira. I sailed with him several times in her, and many a jolly cargo we landed under the cliffs of Dover.” “Then, we are both right,” said Vadier, “and it’s a very clear case, too, that they will drop down with the night’s tide and get to sea, if we don’t prevent them.” “As for that, you may do as you please,” returned the sailor, “you may arrest those that are passengers in the Ca-Ira, but, morbleu! you’re not going, surely, to have up her captain and crew for making a good bargain for the use of their craft. I, for one, won’t turn against an old comrade.” “Diable! what do we want with the Ca-Ira?” said Augustine Vadier, “or her crew? they will not be touched. We only intend arresting her passengers, for that Louis Lebeau you see with Pierre Leveque is comrade to the Englishman who cut out the Vengeance.” “Sacre diable! is that the case?” said the privateer’s man; “I would rather have a shot at those blustering Englishmen than a quarter’s pay.” He was right in his conjecture. “Ah!” said Vadier, as he and his comrade crept along the hedge, and watched the movements of the two young men, “a boat is pulling to shore from the chasse-mare, you will see they will go on board.” For the two men in sailors’ attire were Louis Lebeau and Pierre Eveque. “We may now pull back to the Etoile,” remarked Vadier, “I am satisfied; the fog is getting thick on the river, and we shall have to keep a sharp look-out that the vessel does not pass us in the mist.”