The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance with
the porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmost
importance.

"What road, citizen?" asked the postilion.

"To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sous
fees."

"Forty-two miles in five hours! That's tough. Well, after all, it can be
done."

"Will you do it."

"We can try."

And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o'clock was striking as
they entered Servas.

"A crown of six livres if you'll drive me half-way to Sue without
stopping here to change horses!" cried the young man through the window
to the postilion.

"Done!" replied the latter.

And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping.

Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his head
out of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of a
screech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered from
a neighboring woods.

"Here we are," cried Morgan.

The postilion pulled up, saying: "If we're there, we needn't go
further."

The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and stepped
up to the postilion.

"Here's the promised ecu."

The postilion took the coin and stuck it in his eye, as a fop of our
day holds his eye-glasses. Morgan divined that this pantomime had a
significance.

"Well," he asked, "what does that mean?"

"That means," said the postilion, "that, do what I will, I can't help
seeing with the other eye."

"I understand," said the young man, laughing; "and if I close the other
eye--"

"Damn it! I shan't see anything."

"Hey! you're a rogue who'd rather be blind than see with one eye! Well,
there's no disputing tastes. Here!"

And he gave him a second crown. The postilion stuck it up to his other
eye, wheeled the carriage round and took the road back to Servas.

The Companion of Jehu waited till he vanished in the darkness. Then
putting the hollow of a key to his lips, he drew a long trembling sound
from it like a boatswain's whistle.

A similar call answered him, and immediately a horseman came out of the
woods at full gallop. As he caught sight of him Morgan put on his mask.

"In whose name have you come?" asked the rider, whose face, hidden as it
was beneath the brim of an immense hat, could not be seen.

"In the name of the prophet Elisha," replied the young man with the
mask.

"Then you are he whom I am waiting for." And he