The man explained that he had been bidden to ride on without delay to St. Malo; Monsieur Duguay-Trouin, he believed, was concerting a plan to entrap the English vessels, and it was of particular importance that the letter he bore should reach the admiral early. The maire then agreed to have the message conveyed to the lieutenant on the brig, and the horseman took his leave.
During their short conversation, which I only partly heard, my brain was whirling with a wild dance of notions the messenger's tidings had suggested. When he had gone, I turned to the maire.
"Monsieur," I said. "I think there is much soundness in the advice you gave me just now. It will probably be safer for us to go to Cherbourg by land. In that case, however, I must request you to billet us for the night."
"Assuredly, monsieur," said the little man, delighted at the turn affairs had taken. "Of how many does your party consist?"
"Of seven deserters and five soldiers."
"A dozen," said the maire, rubbing his chin. "I fear I shall have to ask some of my fellow townsmen to share in billeting you."
"It is not to be heard of," I said, guessing that he wished to distribute the expense.
Not that I should have had any objection to that; but that it was necessary to the design I had suddenly conceived that we should be all together.
"It will not be safe," I continued. "The deserters are desperate fellows, and will need careful guarding. Besides, I have had the good luck to capture some English prisoners who had escaped, and they are too precious to be allowed out of my sight. My men must take turns at watching during the night; if there were an outbreak, it would not easily be quelled if we were separated."
The maire had pricked up his ears at the mention of the prisoners.