RIGORD."

Having made himself master of the contents of this letter, Jasmin
wrapped himself in his cloak, for the wind was keen and the weather
looked threatening, and sallied forth from the hotel. But he did not
go straight to Jean Perigord's. On the way he stopped at another inn
called the Hotel Turenne, where he inquired whether a certain M. de
Crillon had yet arrived there. He was answered in the affirmative, and
was presently shown into a saloon, where he found de Crillon, to whom
he forthwith communicated the circumstances which had brought him
thither with the marquis, showing him at the same time the letter from
old Achille. The conference was short, and M. de Crillon concluded it
by saying, "I suspected they would go to Maitre Jean's, and try to get
away in some vessel sailing from this port, and my men are already on
the look-out near the house. If, with the aid of this note, you can
bring them here, or entice them on to the quay, the business is done."
With these instructions, Jasmin once more set out.

It had now become dark, and he found the quay a very long one. He had
traversed nearly the whole length of it without coming upon the "Great
Gun," when he saw a sailor lounging under one of the trees that lined
the road, and asked him if the inn was anywhere near.

"What! Jean Perigord's house?" answered the man. "O yes; I thought
every one knew the 'Great Gun.' Come along, I will show it to you."

In a couple of minutes they reached the house. It was still open; a
lamp was burning over the door, and there stood Jean Perigord himself,
apparently looking out for some one. The sailor touched his hat and
asked Jasmin for a trifle; the latter told the landlord to give the man
something to drink, and they entered the house together. The man then
tossed off his glass and left them alone.

"I will not ask if you are Jean Perigord," said Jasmin, as they entered
the little parlour, "you are so like our honest old Achille. I have
come to you on a delicate and most important matter; but first of all
read this," and he handed to the innkeeper the letter from his brother,
which he read with evident astonishment and perturbation.

"Now listen to me," continued Jasmin. "There is no time for beating
round the bush. What about two young persons sent to you by your
cousin Michel Greboeuf, of St. Sulpice?"

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Jean, in great agitation. "Do you know that
they are here?"

"Of course