Michel reflected a moment.
"I don't think Courtin is as bad as you suppose him to be," he said; "but never mind, it is as well to distrust him, and on no account must he know of my presence in your inn."
Picaut, who had hitherto been standing on the threshold of the door, here came forward and joined in the conversation.
"Oh!" he said, "if he is likely to trouble you, say so; we can settle him so that he shall know nothing, or if he does know anything he shall be made to hold his tongue. I have old scores against him which I've long wanted a pretext to--"
"No, no!" cried Michel, hastily, "Courtin is my farmer. I am under obligations to him which make me anxious that no harm shall happen to him; besides," he hastened to add, seeing the frown on Picaut's brow, "he is not what you think he is."
Joseph Picaut shook his head; but Michel did not notice the gesture.
"Don't trouble yourself," said the inn-keeper. "If he comes in I'll look after him."
"Very good. As for you, Joseph, take the horse on which I came. I want you to do an errand. By the bye, Courtin must not see that horse in the stable; he would certainly recognize it, inasmuch as it is his own beast."
"What next?"
"You know the river, don't you?"