They returned in less than half an hour, bringing with them a short, thin man, spare in build, but tough and wiry. His eyes were sharp and bright, and his face was shrewd and full of intelligence.
"Are you a good Catholic, Philippe?" I asked.
His glance passed from me to Felix and back again so swiftly that he might never have taken his gaze from my face. Then he said with the most natural hesitation in the world, and as if fully expecting to suffer for his confession, "I hope monsieur will not be offended, but I belong to the Religion."
"Faith, Philippe," I said, "I guessed you were shrewd; you are the very fellow for our purpose. Since you belong to the Religion"—the rascal's lips twitched ever so slightly—"you will have no scruple in helping us. We are of the Religion, too."
"Is it possible, monsieur?" he said, with a start of well-feigned surprise.
"Now listen to me," I continued; "you know where the marshal's army is. Don't contradict; it will be useless."
"I am attending, monsieur."
"We want to see this army, but we do not wish to introduce ourselves to the soldiers. Now a sharp guide, thoroughly acquainted with the district, can easily lead us to a place from which we can learn all we want to know. Is not that a good scheme?"
"It has one serious drawback, monsieur."
"Speak on; we are listening."