Part 4 (2/2)

He came shuffling down the stairs.

”It's over early for guests,” he said sleepily, ”but you're good men, I see. Come in.”

Then he caught sight of Sabatier and trembled a little. He was an old man, and had been oppressed so long that he had become used to it. He understood very little of what was going forward in the country.

”Where are the aristocrats?” hissed a dozen raucous voices.

”Those guests of yours,” said Sabatier.

”They have gone--went soon after you left last night. It was a surprise, but I had no power to stop them.”

There was an angry movement toward the landlord.

”Wait,” said Sabatier. ”He is probably a liar. We shall see.”

The men searched the house, some watching the doors lest the aristocrats should make a dash for freedom. Certainly there was a guest here still, but he made no effort to escape. At the top of the stairs was a door--locked.

”The key,” Sabatier demanded.

”I will fetch it,” was the timid answer.

The locked door was suspicious. Two men ran hastily to watch the window and prevent escape that way. And why delay for the key? Not a very strong lock this, a blow from a man's heel could break it, did break it, and the door crashed open, splitting itself from one of its hinges.

On the bed lay a man, half-dressed, his eyes wide open, fixed upon the ceiling, his head bound with a cloth, blood-stained. Very sunken was the head in the pillows, very thin looked the form stretched under the coa.r.s.e blanket. Sabatier touched him and then looked swiftly round the room. A coat was thrown across a chair. He took this up, and there was a cut in the lining of it, high up near the collar.

”Who did this?” he asked.

The landlord did not know.

”Who did it, I say!” and he struck him in the face with the back of his hand, a heavy enough blow to send the old man to the wall.

”I do not know, sir, it's true I do not know,” whined the landlord.

”They brought him here half dead; had found him on the road, they said.

He seemed to get better when one of them bound him up. When they came to look at him after you had gone he was dead. I left them alone with him, and in a few minutes they called me and said they must leave for Paris at once.”

Sabatier flung the coat aside with an oath.

”This is Citizen Latour's business,” he said to his companions.

”And he's been helping aristocrats,” said one man, pointing to the landlord still leaning by the wall.

”What else?” said Sabatier, shortly, as he strode out of the room and down the stairs.

A cry followed him, but he did not stop.

”Mercy! I know nothing.”

A wilder cry, half drowned by savage curses and the sound of blows.

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