d as steeply as it had
descended on the near side of the stream.

Paul ran on and came to the edge of the ford. Negotiations might be
feasible since conquest was out of the question: Dieppe raised his
voice and shouted. Paul turned and looked. "I 'm a pretty long shot,"
thought the Captain, and he thought it prudent to slacken his pace till
he saw in what spirit his overtures were met. Their reception was not
encouraging. Paul took his revolver from his pocket--the Captain saw
the glint of the barrel--and waved it menacingly. Then he replaced it,
lifted his hat jauntily in a mocking farewell, and turned to the ford
again.

"Shall I go on?" asked the Captain, "or shall I give it up?" The
desperate thought at last occurred: "Shall I get as near as I can and
try to wing him?" He stood still for an instant, engaged in these
considerations. Suddenly a sound struck his ear and caught his
attention. It was the heavy, swishing noise of a deep body of water in
rapid movement. His eyes flew down to the river.

"By God!" he muttered under his breath; and from the river his glance
darted to Paul de Roustache. The landlord of the inn at Sasellano had
not spoken without warrant. The stream ran high in flood, and Paul de
Roustache stood motionless in fear and doubt on the threshold of the
ford.

"I 've got him," remarked the Captain simply, and he began to pace
leisurely and warily down the hill. He was ready for a shot now--ready
to give one too, if necessary. But his luck was again in the
ascendant; he smiled and twirled his moustache as he walked along.

If it be pardonable--or even praise-worthy, as some moralists
assert--to pity the criminal, while righteously hating the crime, a
trifle of compassion may be spared for Paul de Roustache. In fact that
gentleman had a few hours before arrived at a resolution which must be
considered (for as a man hath, so shall it be demanded of him, in
talents and presumably in virtues also) distinctly commendable. He had
made up his mind to molest the Countess of Fieramondi no more--provided
he got the fifty thousand francs from M. Guillaume. Up to this moment
fortune--or, in recognition of the morality of the idea, may we not say
heaven?--had favoured his design. Obliged, in view of Paul's urgently
expressed preference for a payment on account, to disburse five
thousand francs, Guillaume had taken from his pocket a leather case of
venerable age and opulent appearance. Pa