craven heart leapt to his mouth.

Already he felt as if his cranium was cracked by the brutal fist of the
savage coiner.

Fear lent him wings.

He put on a spurt.

"Oh, if I had but a pistol," thought Murray; "what a fool I was to come
unarmed on such a job as this."

He partially flagged again.

The distance between them was still decreasing.

This he felt was the beginning of the end, but just as he was thinking
that there was nothing for it but to turn and make the best fight for
it he could, he sighted a roadside inn--a rural auberge.

And for this he flew with renewed energy.

Dashing into the house, he pushed to the door and startled the
aubergiste by gasping out in the best French he could command--

"_Un assassin me poursuit. Cachez-moi, ou donnez-moi de quoi me
defendre!_"[3]

[3] "I am pursued by an assassin. Hide me, or give me something
to defend myself with."

The landlord took Murray--and not unnaturally--for a madman.

He did not like the society of madmen.

To give a weapon to a furious maniac was out of all question.

And the landlord had nothing handy of a more deadly nature than a knife
and fork.

Moreover, he would not have cared to place a dangerous weapon in a
madman's hands.

So he met the case by humouring the fugitive with a proposal to go up
stairs.

Murray wanted no second invitation.

Up he flew, and locked himself in one of the upper rooms just as Lenoir
hammered at the door below.

"_Ou est-il?_"[4] demanded the coiner, fiercely.

[4] "Where is he?"

"_Qui?_"[5]

[5] "Who?"

"_Ne cherchez pas a me tricher_," thundered Lenoir. "_Il m'appartient.
Ou est-il, je vous le demande?_"[6]

[6] "Seek not to deceive me," thundered Lenoir. "He belongs to
me. Where is he, I ask you again?"

The coiner's manner made the aubergiste uneasy, and thoughtful for his
own safety.

So he pointed up stairs.

Up went Lenoir, and finding a room door locked, he flung his whole
weight against the door and sent it in.

This was the room which the fugitive had entered.

But where was Murray?

Gone!

Vanished!

But where?

CHAPTER XCIV.

THE COINER AND THE SPY--A REGULAR DUST-UP, AND WHAT CAME OF IT--THE
CHASE--AN ODD ESCAPE--HUNTING IN THE HAY--A ROUGH CUSTOMER DONE FOR.

When Lenoir had puzzled himself for some time over the mysterious
disappearance of Herbert Murray, he made a discovery.

The window was open, a circumsta