In vain I asked myself the meaning of this strange investigation. Manifestly the present object of De Berquin was nothing more than to keep himself informed of our whereabouts. But why had he sent all four of his henchmen to find out whether we were at this inn, when one would have sufficed? I abandoned the attempt to deduce what his exact intentions were. Drowsiness now coming over me, and the night air having grown colder, I repaired to the shed for the purpose of obtaining there the repose that had been denied me in the kitchen. I was satisfied in mind that whatever blow De Berquin intended to strike for the possession of mademoiselle, or for revenge upon myself, would be attempted at a time and place more convenient to him. Knowing that my slumbers invariably yielded to any unusual noise, I allowed myself to fall asleep on a pile of straw in the shed.
I know not how long I had slept, when I suddenly awoke with a start and sat upright. What noise had invaded my sleep, I could not, at that moment, tell. The place was then perfectly quiet, save for the regular breathing of the two boys, and an occasional movement of one of the horses. The shed was still entirely dark, excepting where a thin slice of moonlight entered at a crack. I sat still, listening.
Presently a low sound struck my ear, something between a growl and a groan. I quickly arose, left the shed, and ran to a clump of bushes at the side of the inn, whence the sound proceeded. Separating the bushes I saw, lying prone on the ground among them, the stalwart body of Blaise.
"What is the matter?" I cried. "Speak! Are you wounded?"
The only reply was a kind of muffled roar. Looking closer, I saw that Blaise's mouth and head were tightly bound by the detached sleeve of a doublet, and this had deterred him from articulating. I saw, also, that his legs had been tied together, and his hands fastened behind him with a rope.
I rapidly released his legs, and he stood up. Then I undid his hands, and he stretched out his arms with relief. Finally I unbound his mouth and he spoke:
"Oh, the whelps of hell! To fall on a man when he is sleeping off his wine, and tie him up like a trussed fowl! I will have the blood of every cursed knave of them! And the maid! Grandmother of the devil! They have taken the maid! Come, monsieur, let us cut them into pieces, and save the maid!"
But I held him back, and cried: "And mademoiselle, what of her? Speak, you drunken dog! Have you let her be harmed?"
"She is perfectly safe," he answered, in his turn holding me back from rushing to the inn. "I do not think that she was even awakened. What use to let her know what has happened? If we rescue the maid and the maid will hold her tongue, mademoiselle will never know what danger she has escaped."
"Or what vigilant protectors she has had to guard her sleep," I said, with bitter self-reproach, no longer daring to blame Blaise for a laxity of which I had been equally guilty. "You are right," I went on, "she must know nothing. Now tell me at once exactly what has occurred."