"Take both bodies to the Hall," the Squire resumed. "I will communicate with the coroner; the inquest can be held there. You, Mons. St. Just, will, of course, attend it. And you, Sergeant."
St. Just assented, then wished the Squire good-evening and withdrew. He was anxious to put the packet in a place of safety for future examination, when he should be alone; for now, he expected his wife to come out every moment, to inquire the meaning of the disturbance; she must have heard the shots.
When he reached his study, he took the packet from his pocket and examined the outside. It was stitched up in a sleeve of French Guardsman's coat, and greatly to his surprise, he found it was addressed to himself.
"Major St. Just
England."
Then it really had been meant for him. How fortunate that he had happened to be on the spot. He had supposed, naturally, that it concerned Colonel Tremeau, or some friend of his, and that he himself had been intended only as a messenger for its delivery.
He locked it up in his escritoire, and then went to seek his wife.
Later, another surprise awaited him, for, at the inquest, he discovered that the murdered officer was that very Captain Anson who, ten years before, had driven with him, a prisoner, along that same road, when on his way, unknowingly, to Trafalgar.
CHAPTER II.
It was late the same night, or, to be precise, at an early hour—long before day-break—on the following morning, before St. Just found an opportunity of examining the packet that had so strangely reached his hands; for Halima was never fond of retiring early for the night. But, at last, she went to bed, and then St. Just betook himself to the room he called his own.