‘I tell you there is no one here,’ screamed the unfortunate professor, as some of the guard proceeded to lay hands on him; ‘or if there is, it is without my knowledge. You can search my house from top to bottom. I will conduct you everywhere.’
This was said with such frantic anxiety that Desgrais placed the confusion of the doctor rather to the score of undisguised fright than unbelieved truth. He directly stationed sentinels round the house, and, accompanied by Chapelet and the rest of his men, commenced a searching investigation, scaring the servant—a rosy, drowsy Normande—from her tranquillity, and even breaking the slumbers of Madame Chapelet, whose appearance, in her provincial night-gear, attracted less the attention of the Guet Royal. Not a corner of the abode was left unvisited. Desgrais sounded the panels, and even broke in the side of one of the fireplaces, which he thought was a masked recess. He crept up into the lofts and down into the cellars, but, of course, without success; until, having visited the stable and found but one horse therein—a sorry animal, whose appearance betrayed not the least token of recent exercise—he confessed himself fairly at a loss to know what to do next.
‘She is a deep one, that Marchioness!’ he said, ‘and has fairly tricked us. We are sorry, monsieur,’ he added, addressing the professor, ‘to have annoyed you in such an untimely manner; but you have our best wishes that the remainder of your night’s rest will be undisturbed.’
The professor made a grimace, and an attempt at a bow.
Desgrais continued—
‘Gentleman, we must be again on our way. One thing is certain—the fugitives will not return to Paris, but, without doubt, are still on the road, although this ruse—for such it is—is inexplicable. We must go on to Senlis.’
The guard did not obey this order with their usual alacrity. They were put out of heart by the escape of their intended prisoners when they thought them in their grasp. Their horses, too, were fatigued; and between Mortefontaine and Senlis there were still eight or nine good miles of ground to be got over. But Desgrais’s orders were peremptory; and although grumbling quietly to one another, they remounted, and were again on their pursuit.
But the delay thus brought about had answered Philippe’s purpose, who still kept bravely on with his companion, until at last they came to the faubourgs of Senlis, and the horse’s hoofs clattered over the pavement of the narrow streets, with the topography of which the student was very well acquainted. The pace had, however, materially diminished, and Philippe was not sorry when they at last stopped at the poste—the Hôtel du Grand-Cerf. Luckily the inn was open, and the people were up; for a public conveyance running from Valenciennes to Paris was expected within an hour, either sooner or later—its arrival being a matter of great uncertainty, depending alike on the roads, the weather, and the thieves.
Philippe was on the ground the instant they reached the door; and, assisting Marie to dismount, supported her into the inn, whilst one of the écuyers took the horse. As the student reached the salle à manger, where a bright fire was burning, Marie could bear up no longer. She strove to utter a few words, and then, her voice failing, went into a violent fit of hysterics that appeared tearing her to pieces.
Philippe was a clever fellow in his profession, and could have prescribed fitly for a patient; but he scarcely knew how to act upon the present occasion. His natural readiness, however, never deserted him; so he sent for the mistress of the hotel, and, commencing by ordering a chaise and four to be immediately in waiting, that he might command more attention, said to the hostess—