"Upon this," went on the sergeant, "I arrested them and found these."
Whereupon the man produced from his pockets numerous gold coins, French and English, Louis d'ors and double Louis d'ors, some gold quadruple pistoles, and a handful of English guineas. And also he brought forth, wrapped in a filthy handkerchief, a considerable quantity of pieces of jewellery containing superb precious stones. There were two necklaces, innumerable rings and bracelets, and a woman's tiara of rubies and diamonds. And from this latter--the rubies and diamonds being set alternately--one of the former was missing.
"Alas!" said Bertie aside to his brother captain, "that proves nothing as regards my poor friend. He possessed no jewels, nor, in the world, one-half of that money. He had nought but his pay and a little allowed him by the Scot's Fund. These men may be his murderers, but all this is the result of another robbery--perhaps another murder."
"Nevertheless," said the captain of the guard, "we will hear their story. Observe, a stone is missing from the tiara, and such a stone was found where your friend was slain." Then turning to the two fellows before them, he said curtly, "Now, your account of yourselves. And explain your possession of all this," and he swept his hand over the plain guardroom table, whereupon the money and the jewellery had been temporarily placed.
"Explain!" exclaimed the man who was called D'Aunay and who appeared to be the boldest of the two--while he regarded the captain with an assumed air of fierceness and disdain. "Explain! What shall I explain? That we are two gentlemen of Gascony."
"Sans doute," the captain muttered under his teeth.
"Oui, monsieur, sans doute," repeated the fellow, who had overheard his whisper. "Of Gascony, I repeat. From Tarbes, and resident at Paris."
"Amiens scarcely lies on the route between those places," the captain remarked quietly.
"Permit that I make myself clear. We had been to your great fair in this fine city, and, by St. Firmin, had much enjoyed ourselves and were riding back to Paris when, by great misfortune, my friend, who suffers much from a painful and distracting vertigo, fell from his horse. Naturally, I remained to solace and console him, and 'twas there that your sergeant--who, you will pardon me for saying, possesses not manners of the highest refinement and appears to combine the calling of a mouchard with that of a soldier--burst in upon our privacy, and has added to his insults by dragging us back here."
"You have your papers, doubtless?" the captain asked.