“This must be the intendant, Jean Plessis,” thought our hero, “though I do not remember him.” Turning to Bill, who was still grasping his captive, and giving him an angry shake now and then, he said—“Let him go, Bill, as if accidentally. It will not do in our situation to have to confront the authorities against this fellow. The other two are dead. Just slacken your hold, and come with me. I see the rascally postillion coming along the road with several persons following. I dare say he ran away.”
The stranger having restored the young lady to consciousness, for she had fainted, now came towards our hero, and, holding out his hand, said, in an agitated voice—
“I feel certain we owe our preservation to Monsieur Thornton; you do not, I fear, remember me. I am Jean Plessis.”
Our hero shook the hand held out to him warmly, saying—
“I guessed as much, Monsieur Plessis, and now that I hear the tone of your voice, my recollection returns; but how came you to recognise me?”
“Oh, monsieur, only because I knew you were at the château, and hearing you speak, satisfied me you were Lieutenant Thornton. It was most providential that you were on the spot, otherwise those ruffians would have grossly ill-used my daughter and Mademoiselle de Tourville, and plundered us of everything. Ah, you were right,” he added, in a low voice, looking round; “I see your man has let the ruffian he held steal away. No doubt you ordered him to do so.”
“I did,” returned our hero; “I thought he would be a useless incumbrance to us.”
“You are quite right; but one word more for the present, for I see several people of the vicinity coming across the fields. Recollect you must take the name of Tourville—Philip de Tourville—brother to this young lady under my care. We shall have more time to talk of this when we get to the château; but let me introduce you to Mademoiselle Tourville; she is a young lady of good family, but, unfortunately, a sufferer during the terrible Reign of Terror.”
Both the females were standing at some little distance, leaning on each other, and conversing in a low voice. As Jean Plessis and our hero approached, they turned round, and Lieutenant Thornton could perceive that the taller of the two, a graceful and very lovely girl, trembled exceedingly and was as pale as death.
“Mademoiselle de Tourville,” said Jean Plessis, “to this gallant gentleman we owe our rescue; this is Monsieur Thornton, that for a time takes your name, and will pass as your brother; and this is my daughter, monsieur,” motioning with his hand to the other young lady, who appeared infinitely more self-possessed, and, as our hero thought, much less frightened.