“I cannot leave Paris at this time,” said the captain, “but as the man seems to be speaking the truth, now, you two might act upon his suggestion. A couple of fast horses would take you to Brest in little time, and you may be able to prevent the man’s escape.”
“But should he reach Brest before us—if he gets to sea—we cannot follow him.”
Captain Jones drew out a wallet and took from it a number of French bills of exchange.
“This,” said he, “will secure a vessel. If it is not sufficient say that I will make up the balance.”
Ethan hesitated, but at length took the bills, and shook the officer by the hand.
“This is generous of you; and you may depend upon me to do my best,” he said.
Within an hour himself and Longsword were in the saddle and riding along the road toward Brest.
“Like as not he took a carriage,” said the dragoon: “these well-fed gentlemen like Monsieur Fochard don’t care much about riding.”
“Perhaps the story told us by the Lascar is not true,” suggested Ethan, who still felt most doubtful upon this point.
“Maybe not. But it won’t be long before we satisfy ourselves upon that point. We’ll not ride many miles before we know who is ahead of us; innkeepers have good memories if they are paid for it.”