“Lead on!” said Maurice.
At the entrance to the guardroom, which occupied the left wing of the stables, stood a Lieutenant of the hussars.
“This is Monsieur Carewe,” said the baron, “who will occupy a corner in the guardroom.”
“Ah! Monsieur Carewe,” waving his hand cavalierly; “happy to see you again.”
Maurice was growing weary of his name.
“Enter,” said the baron, opening the door.
Maurice entered, but not without suspicion. However, he was in a hurry to mingle with the gay assembly in the chateau. But that body was doomed to proceed without the honor or the knowledge of his distinguished presence. Several troopers were lounging about. At the sight of the baron they rose.
“Messieurs,” he said, “this is Monsieur Carewe, who was expected.”
“Glad to see you!” they sang out in chorus. They bowed ironically.
Maurice gazed toward the door. As he did so four pairs of arms enveloped him, and before he could offer the slightest resistance, he was bound hand and foot, a scarf was tied over his mouth, and he was pushed most disrespectfully into a chair. The baron's mouth was twisted out of shape, and the troopers were smiling.