They had spoken loud enough to be overheard by Balstain, the innkeeper, who had learned, during the day, of the magnificent reward which had been promised to Lacheneur’s captor.
When he heard the name of the guest who was sleeping quietly under his roof, a thirst for gold seized him. He whispered a word to his wife, then escaped through the window to run and summon the gendarmes.
He had been gone half an hour before the peasants left the house; for to muster up courage for the act they were about to commit they had been obliged to drink heavily.
They closed the door so violently on going out that Lacheneur was awakened by the noise. He sprang up, and came out into the adjoining room.
The wife of the innkeeper was there alone.
“Where are my friends?” he asked, anxiously. “Where is your husband?”
Moved by sympathy, the woman tried to falter some excuse, but finding none, she threw herself at his feet, crying:
“Fly, Monsieur, save yourself—you are betrayed!”
Lacheneur rushed back into the other room, seeking a weapon with which he could defend himself, an issue through which he could flee!
He had thought that they might abandon him, but betray him—no, never!