“I regret infinitely that I have pressing business, Mademoiselle. To-morrow, if you will be so kind,” and he smilingly bid her good-night.
Five minutes later he was galloping through the woods to “The Cock with the Spurs of Gold.” Something useful for his new resolve might possibly be learned there, and every clue would help now.
The inn that looked like a farmhouse buried in the woods wore as deserted an air as it had worn eighteen months ago, and in answer to his imperious knock there appeared the chambermaid with the shifty eyes, who stared in fear and surprise at this officer in his faded uniform and muddy boots who demanded entrance in the dark hours of the night.
“My mistress, the wise woman, is not here, sir,” she replied pettishly, half closing the door in André’s face.
“When will she be here?”
“Never again, Monsieur. She has left.”
André promptly pushed his way into the passage and closed the door. The girl uttered a suppressed shriek. “Are you of the police, sir?” she whimpered. “I know nothing, nothing; I swear it.”
“I am not of the police,” he said quietly. “I am a friend of your mistress. See that gold piece; you shall have it if you will tell me all you know.”
The girl looked slowly round. “I do not know where she is, my mistress,” she said. “Three days ago there came an English gentleman——”
“English?” he interrupted sharply.