“Are you sure of the man, my dear Jules?”
“Undoubtedly. I didn’t get a square look at him, but he’s a gentleman by the quality of his clothes. He is the same build; it is not a plow-horse, but a thoroughbred he’s riding. The gentlemen of the valley are in their beds long ago.”
“Would that we were in ours! The spring nights are cold in these hills!”
“The work is nearly done. The little soldier is yet to reckon with; but we are three; and Zmai did quite well with the potato sack.”
Chauvenet rode ahead and addressed a few words to Zmai.
“The little man must be found before we finish. There must be no mistake about it.”
They exercised greater caution as they drew nearer the wood that concealed the bungalow, and Chauvenet dismounted, opened the gate and set a stone against it to insure a ready egress; then they walked their horses up the driveway.
Admonished by Chauvenet, Durand threw away his cigarette with a sigh.
“You are convinced this is the wise course, dearest Jules?”
“Be quiet and keep your eyes open. There’s the house.”