Shortly after Victor’s departure the storm abated. Vivienne was very thankful for this, for she was really solicitous regarding his exposure to the elements. She knew that he was drenched to the skin and feared that this fact and the long walk to and from her home might throw him into a fever, for the river valleys in Corsica were, in those days, full of malarial poison. She was thinking of Victor, hoping that he would return soon, when she heard voices. She drew back as far as possible into the cave, but listened intently in order to hear every word that might be said.
Two men who, in appearance, resembled those belonging to Cromillian’s band, but who, in reality, were not connected with it, approached from the same direction in which Victor had gone. As they came within hearing, Vivienne heard one of them say:
“Who in the devil left that lantern here?”
“Are you sure you saw the fellow?” the other asked.
“Yes, I am quite sure. He had a gun over his shoulder, but I saw no lantern. He wore a big cloak, however, and that may have concealed it from view.”
“They are speaking of the Lieutenant,” thought Vivienne, and she clasped her hands in mute terror.
“Shall we leave the lantern where it is?” asked the second man.
“Of course,” was the reply; “if we move it, he will suspect that something is wrong.”
“Don’t you think we had better hide behind those trees?”
“No,” said the first speaker; “we have come here to meet him, and he might as well meet us. He is somewhere about here. The lantern being here proves that, and we shall be sure of our chance sooner or later.”