"Pompée, if you are sent on before as quarter-master, as you were yesterday, secure a room for me, if possible, near your master's, so that we may talk together a little." The crafty squire exchanged a glance with the viscount and smiled, fully determined to do nothing of the sort. Castorin, meanwhile, who had received his instructions beforehand, took the letter and was told to join the rest of the party at Jaulnay. There was no danger of mistaking the inn, as Jaulnay could boast but one,--the Grand Charles-Martel. The horses were saddled, and they set out. About five hundred yards beyond Poitiers, where they dined, Castorin took a cross-road to the right. They rode on for about two hours. At last they came to a house, which Canolles, from the description given him, recognized as his friend's. He pointed it out to the viscount, repeated his request to Pompée as to the location of his room, and took a cross-road to the left. The viscount was entirely reassured. His manœuvre of the previous evening had been successful without a contest, and the whole day had passed without the slightest allusion to it. He no longer feared that Canolles would place any obstacle in the way of his wishes, and as soon as he saw in the baron nothing more than a kindly, jovial, witty travelling companion, he desired nothing better than to finish the journey in his company. And so, whether because the viscount deemed it a useless precaution, or because he did not wish to part company with his squire, and remain alone in the high-road, Pompée was not even sent on ahead. They reached the village at nightfall; the rain was falling in torrents. As good luck would have it, there was a vacant room with a good fire. The viscount, who was in haste to change his clothes, took it, and sent Pompée to engage a room for Canolles. "It is already done," said Pompée, the selfish, who was beyond measure anxious to go to bed himself; "the hostess has agreed to look out for him." "'T is well. My toilet-case?" "Here it is." "And my bottles?" "Here they are." "Thanks. Where do you sleep, Pompée?" "At the end of the corridor." "Suppose I need you?" "Here is a bell; the hostess will come--" "That will do. The door has a good lock, has it not?" "Monsieur can see for himself." "There are no bolts!" "No, but there's a stout lock." "Good; I will lock myself in. There's no other entrance?" "None that I know of." Pompée took the candle and made the circuit of the room. "See if the shutters are secure." "They are all hooked." "Very well. You may go, Pompée." Pompée went out, and the viscount turned the key in the lock. An hour later, Castorin, who had arrived first at the inn, and was quartered near Pompée, without his knowledge, left his room on tiptoe, and opened the door to admit Canolles. Canolles, with beating heart, glided into the inn, and leaving Castorin to secure the door, inquired the location of the viscount's room and went upstairs.