On he went through the snow, Hans always a good pace behind him, stopping if he stopped, running if he ran, and, two men moving as one, they came to the open country.
Pausing, the man gave a low call.
It was answered with cautious care.
Then a sleigh with high runners and a driver in a fur cap glided from the distant darkness. A figure, not the driver, leaned from the fur rugs.
"You have it?" was asked in French.
"Yes," said the man; "the woman told the truth. It is the one we are in search of."
The man in the sleigh uttered a sound as of congratulation.
"Lombard, you mean?"
"Yes, yes. The woman has had it three days. Here."
Something white was held in the air—his letter. Hans recognised it.