"If my uncle has been foolish, so have I, and I will share the consequences with him. But as to to-day, monsieur?"
"I know all," the Prefect said. "Your uncle had visitors this morning, who were spirited away out of our sight. Their horses were hidden in an inner stable; they themselves in a hovel in the wood—and if they have waited there till we were gone, they must be tired of it. That famous breakfast we enjoyed was not prepared on such miraculously short notice. Your little cousin, poor child, was employed to carry food to the fugitives hidden in the wood. With all my heart I pity her; a life of political plots is not happiness. But if Monsieur de la Marinière does not hesitate to sacrifice his daughter, it is no wonder that he lightly runs his nephew into danger! You acted well, you and he. But I almost think it might have been safer to carry on that first breakfast-party, and not show its character by absurd attempts at concealment. You cannot contradict a word I have been saying, Angelot. I do not ask you to tell me the names of your uncle's guests."
"If you did, monsieur," the young fellow answered, "I should consider that an uncomfortable day had punished them enough, and so I should respectfully decline to answer you. I don't know how you made all these wonderful discoveries."
The Prefect looked at him and laughed. "You take it lightly!"
"I am speaking to a friend," Angelot said.
"That is all very well. Yes—too good a friend, I fear, from the point of view of duty. But I shall not repent, if you will be warned into prudence yourself, and will warn your uncle."
"I am rather afraid, monsieur, that my father has all the prudence of the family."
The Prefect would have argued further, but suddenly a sound like low thunder, still distant, echoed down the lane.
"What is that?" he said, looking round.
"Cattle, monsieur. Pull right into the bank and give them room to pass," said Angelot.