Speed looked around at me. “It’s the treasure-train from Lorient. They’re probably sending the crown diamonds back to Brest in view of the Uhlans being seen near Quimper.”
“On a false order?”
“I believe so. I believe that Buckhurst sent the cruiser to Brest, and now he’s started the treasure-trains back to Brest in a panic.”
“That is the truth,” said the Lizard; “Tric-Trac told me. They have the code-book of Mornac.” His eyes began to light up with that terrible anger as the name of his blood enemy fell from his lips; his nose twitched; his upper lip wrinkled into a snarl.
I thought quietly for a moment, then asked the poacher whether there was a guard at the semaphore of Saint-Yssel.
“Yes, the soldier Rolland, who says he understands the telegraph—a sot from Morlaix.” He hesitated and looked across the open moor toward Paradise. “I must go,” he muttered; “I am on guard yonder.”
I offered him my hand again; he took it, looking me sincerely in the eyes.
“Let your private wrongs wait a little longer,” I 337 said. “I think we can catch Buckhurst and Mornac alive. Do you promise?”
“Y-es,” he replied.
“Strike, then, like a Breton!”