m a sure and certain fear crept into my mind: it was
that which made me shiver. But I did not speak to them. I went in again
and closed the door behind me. The landlord was putting on his boots.

'What does this mean?' I said hoarsely--though I had a clear prescience
of what was coming. 'Why are these men here?'

'Orders,' he answered laconically.

'Whose orders?' I retorted.

'Whose?' he answered bluntly. 'Well, Monsieur, that is my business.
Enough that we mean to see you out of the country, and out of harm's
way.'

'But if I will not go?' I cried.

'Monsieur will go,' he answered coolly. 'There are no strangers in the
village to-day,' he added, with a significant smile.

'Do you mean to kidnap me?' I replied, in a rage.

But behind the rage was something else--I will not call it terror, for
the brave feel no terror but it was near akin to it. I had had to do
with rough men all my life, but there was a grimness and truculence
in the aspect of these three that shook me. When I thought of the dark
paths and narrow lanes and cliff sides we must traverse, whichever road
we took, I trembled.

'Kidnap you, Monsieur?' he answered, with an every-day air. 'That is
as you please to call it. One thing is certain, however,' he continued,
maliciously touching an arquebuss which he had brought out, and set
upright against a chair while I was at the door; if you attempt the
slightest resistance, we shall know how to put an end to it, either here
or on the road.'

I drew a deep breath, the very imminence of the danger restoring me to
the use of my faculties. I changed my tone and laughed aloud.

'So that is your plan, is it?' I said. 'The sooner we start the better,
then. And the sooner I see Auch and your back turned, the more I shall
be pleased.'

He rose. 'After you, Monsieur,' he said.

I could not restrain a slight shiver. His new-born politeness alarmed me
more than his threats. I knew the man and his ways, and I was sure that
it boded ill to me.

But I had no pistols, and only my sword and knife, and I knew that
resistance at this point must be worse than vain. I went out jauntily,
therefore, the landlord coming after me with my saddle and bags.

The street was empty, save for the two waiting horsemen who sat in their
saddles looking doggedly before them, The sun had not yet risen, the air
was raw. The sky was grey, cloudy, and cold. My thoughts flew back to
the morning on which I had found the sachet--at th