sed
them as quietly as might be.

Then working with infinite precaution, and as little sound as possible,
they brought them out into the yard and set them in the shafts of the
carriage. The rest was easy work, and a quarter of an hour later the
heavy vehicle rumbled through the porte-cochere and started on its way
to Soignies.

La Boulaye dropped the keys into a bucket and went within. In the
common-room nothing had changed, and the men lay about precisely as he
had left them. Reassured, he went above and took a peep at the Captain,
whom he found snoring lustily.

Satisfied that all was well, Caron passed quietly to his own chamber,
and with an elation of soul such as had never been his since boyhood,
he fell asleep amid visions of Suzanne and the new life he was to enter
upon in her sweet company.

CHAPTER XII. THE AWAKENING

La Boulaye awakened betimes next morning. It may be that the matter on
his mind and the business that was toward aroused him; certainly it
was none of the sounds that are common to an inn at early morn, for the
place was as silent as a tomb.

Some seconds he remained on his back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling
and listening to the patter of the rain against his window. Then, as his
mind gathered up the threads of recollection, he leapt from his bed and
made haste to assume a garment or two.

He stood a moment at his casement, looking out into the empty courtyard.
From a leaden sky the rain was descending in sheets, and the gargoyle at
the end of the eaves overhead was discharging a steady column of water
into the yard. Caron shivered with the cold of that gloomy February
morning, and turned away from the window. A few moments later he was in
Tardivet's bedchamber, vigorously shaking the sleeping Captain.

"Up, Charlot! Awake!" he roared in the man's ear.

"What o'clock?" he asked with a yawn. Then a sudden groan escaped him,
and he put his hand to his head. "Thousand devils!" he swore, "what a
headache!"

But La Boulaye was not there on any mission of sympathy, nor did he
waste words in conveying his news.

"The coach is gone," he announced emphatically.

"Coach? What coach?" asked the Captain, knitting his brows.

"What coach?" echoed La Boulaye testily. "How many coaches were there?
Why, the Bellecour coach; the coach with the treasure."

At that Charlot grew very wide-awake. He forgot his headache and his
interest in the time of day.

"Gone?" he bellowed. "How go