res, the imperial loot--I know not what. Besides
that, they had some of their own--not furs and candlesticks such as we
others carried on our backs, but gold and jewellery enough to make a man
rich all his life."

"How do you know that?" asked Mathilde, a dull light in her eyes.

"I--I know where it came from," replied Barlasch, with an odd smile.
"Allez! you may take it from me." And he muttered to himself in the
patois of the Cotes du Nord.

"And they were safe and well at Vilna?" asked Mathilde.

"Yes--and they had their treasure. They had good fortune, or else they
were more clever than other men; for they had the Imperial treasure to
escort, and could take any man's horse for the carriages in which also
they had placed their own treasure. It was Captain Darragon who held the
appointment, and the other--the Colonel--had attached himself to him as
volunteer. For it was at Vilna that the last thread of discipline was
broken, and every man did as he wished."

"They did not come to Kowno?" asked Mathilde, who had a clear mind,
and that grasp of a situation which more often falls to the lot of the
duller sex.

"They did not come to Kowno. They would turn south at Vilna. It was as
well. At Kowno the soldiers had broken into the magazines--the brandy
was poured out in the streets. The men were lying there, the drunken
and the dead all confused together on the snow. But there would be no
confusion the next morning; for all would be dead."

"Was it at Kowno that you left Monsieur d'Arragon?" asked Desiree, in a
sharp voice.

"No--no. We quitted Kowno together, and parted on the heights above the
town. He would not trust me--monsieur le marquis--he was afraid that
I should get at the brandy. And he was right. I only wanted the
opportunity. He is a strong one--that!" And Barlasch held up a warning
hand, as if to make known to all and sundry that it would be inadvisable
to trifle with Louis d'Arragon.

He drew the icicles one by one from his whiskers with a wry face
indicative of great agony, and threw them down on the mat.

"Well," he said, after a pause, to Desiree, "have you made your choice?"

Desiree was reading the letter again, and before she could answer, a
quick knock on the front door startled them all. Barlasch's face broke
into that broad smile which was only called forth by the presence of
danger.

"Is it the patron?" he asked in a whisper, with his hand on the heavy
bolts affixed by that pious Hanse