s he went on--several wore the colours of
the Picardy Regiment, which he knew well, from having once been
quartered with it. Therefore, he understood why De Roquemaure had been
on board the transport. They had doubtless been shipped ready for the
projected invasion, and these wretched soldiers had been more
fortunate than he in one way--they had at least escaped ashore to die,
instead of being blown to pieces in the explosions of the transports.

He made his way through the sand, stopping once or twice to endeavour
to help some dying wretch whom he came across, and then going on again
when he found his efforts useless; and so he came at last to what he
supposed must be the auberge spoken of by the woman, a miserable
wooden structure with a seat and a bench outside the door.

Two horsemen were drawn up in front of this, and were speaking to some
stragglers standing before them, all of whom St. Georges noticed stood
cap in hand. One, a tall thin man with a hatchet face, dressed in
gray, was questioning them; the other, who sat his horse by his side,
was an elderly man of dark, swarthy features, who was, however,
deathly pale. His eye--a wandering one--lighted on St. Georges's the
instant he approached the front of the inn, and turning away from his
companion he addressed him in good French, which, however, St. Georges
noticed had a strong accent.

"What uniform is yours, sir?" he asked. "I do not know it. And you
seem to have been in the water. Are you one of his Majesty's naval
officers?"

"I am," St. Georges replied, recognising at once the danger he was in.
"And the uniform is that of a transport officer."

"A transport officer!" the other exclaimed, turning round suddenly at
the words--"a transport officer! Have any escaped?"

"I have, at any rate," St. Georges replied.

"You can then give us some information," the first said. "How many
others are there who have also escaped?"

"Very few, I imagine. I myself did so only by swimming ashore. And
even then the transport was blown up ere I had quitted it very long."

"And," asked the second, "have the--English--made many prisoners?"

"A great number, I should suppose."

"God help me!" the dark, pale man exclaimed.

"Louis will do no more. This is our last chance, Melfort."

As he spoke St. Georges knew in whose presence he was--the presence of
the unhappy James. Then, because he knew also that this place was full
of danger to him--some naval officers of the