"I know. We drove there once to see the place."
"Naturellement. St. Mihiel is but seven leagues from Verdun. Mademoiselle de St. Roques had some affair in the place, and she was there for a few days. We chanced to meet—it matters not how,—and when I learned that she was from Verdun, I asked her had she seen M. le Colonel and the tall M. le Capitaine, and the young gentleman with them. Then I found that she knew them all well. And she told me of m'sieu being at Bitche, and the great trouble that it was to those others."
"Did she say—were they all well, Jean?"
Jean answered this question reservedly. M. le Capitaine had been ill, but Mademoiselle had said that it would doubtless make him well, could he but hear good news of the young gentleman at Bitche. Then Jean had offered to go himself to Bitche, and to find out what he might. And the good demoiselle had emptied her pocket of all the money that she had, to enable Jean to go the more quickly.
"And I thought, m'sieu, if I could but compass m'sieu's escape from that terrible Bitche, and might take word that he had gone to England, then Monsieur le Capitaine would have a light heart, and would grow strong once more."
"Jean, you're the best fellow that ever was! Won't they be glad!" panted Roy.
And at length their destination was reached.
On the edge of a little clearing, in the centre of the wood, stood a small charcoal-burner's cottage, built of stone. Near behind it might be seen a good-sized outhouse or woodhouse; and on one side was the pile of slowly burning charcoal. Round and about were heaps of unsightly rubbish and of blackened moss.
Nobody seemed to be at hand. Jean opened the door, and when they were within he bolted it. Roy flung himself upon a small bench, glad to get his breath; while Jean went to a corner, struck a light with flint and steel, and made a dip to burn. The one window was closely shuttered.
"Are we to stop here?" asked Roy. "But if the gendarmes come?"