One of the men said under his breath:
“Ah! but the citizen agent knows how to curse! One day he will break his gullet with the fury of his oaths.”
In the meanwhile the runner had come nearer, always at the same breathless speed.
The next moment he was challenged:
“Qui va la?”
“A friend!” he replied, panting and exhausted. “Where is citizen Heron?”
“Here!” came the reply in a voice hoarse with passionate excitement. “Come up, damn you. Be quick!”
“A lanthorn, citizen,” suggested one of the drivers.
“No—no—not now. Here! Where the devil are we?”
“We are close to the chapel on our left, citizen,” said the sergeant.