"But who was in that carriage? Who paid the courier?"
"I don't know, monsieur, the blinds of the berlin were pulled down. On the seat behind sat a man and a woman, both elderly folks who looked as though they might be confidential servants."
"And the courier, had he nothing to say?"
"The courier? Not he, a ferocious looking fellow with never a word to say! The only time I heard him speak was when he ordered the horses, and that didn't take long, allez, monsieur! He jumped from his horse, put two louis d'or in the hand of the maître de poste, and said: 'Six horses for the carriage and one riding-horse, cent sous for the guide, forty sous paid in advance.' And then off he went at a gallop."
"And he never gave his master's name?"
"Non, monsieur."
"What sort of livery did the courier wear?"
"Stop a bit, monsieur, and I'll try to remember. Yes—a green jacket, with gold braid on all the seams, a cap just like the jacket, red silk sash, coat-of-arms on his buttons, a hunting-knife—moustaches—oh, the whole business—grand style—but too fierce to suit me, parole d'honneur!"
"And since then have you never found out who you led to ——?"
"Non, monsieur."