"'And how about the carriage?' said I.
"'If I don't return, you can take it back to the post-house, and some one will come to get it.'
"'And your baggage?'
"'I take it with me.'
"And he showed me a long box, flat, square, and quite heavy, which he carried under his arm, and then he disappeared in the undergrowth, which is very thick in that place.
"In this cursed village there is no inn, so I fed my horses and waited; but poor Devastator was so blown that he couldn't eat. I was hungry enough, however, and so I took a bite, and at the end of an hour my old deceiver had not got back. Well, I wait two hours and no one comes yet, so I start for the village which is in the distance, for say I to myself, he must be in the country house of the folks of the six horses and the courier. So I ring at the little door, and then at the big door,—nobody. I knock and pound as though I meant to break the door down,—nobody.
"Finally I got tired, and came back and waited another half-hour; still nobody came. My faith! So then I went back to the post-house. We put the old berlingot under a shed, and from that time until now no one has been to claim it. So probably the old brigand finds himself well off where he is, and where you are going, monsieur; but all the same it is a curious kind of a town,—folks go there, but nobody ever comes back."
Like my guide, I was much struck by this strange story, and became more and more curious.
"But that man," said I, "the last one that you took to ——, was he very old?"
"Pretty well on, about fifty years I should say, dry as a chip, hair perfectly white, but eyes and eyebrows black as charcoal. And now I think of it, when I asked him about his baggage, and he showed me the big box, he laughed,—ah, but such a laugh, he almost foamed at the mouth; and I noticed that his teeth were very pointed and wide apart, which they do say is a sign of wickedness; but that doesn't surprise me when a man is infamous enough to offer the guide twenty-five sous, and then to call him his bon ami!"