They carried the four bodies to one of the outhouses, and not till then did André enter the inn parlour to wait for the agent of the Jacobites; but no agent arrived, and, after drinking some wine which Yvonne found for him and telling her to summon him if required, André dismissed her, drew a chair up to the fire, and began to ponder on the night’s work; but his mind refused to think. A curious numbness as if produced by a drug steadily overpowered him, and after wrestling with himself in vain he fell into a deep sleep.
He had been lying in the chair perhaps a quarter of an hour when the door softly opened. Yvonne with a finger to her lips, holding her petticoats off the floor, stole in, and behind her a stranger, shading the light he carried with his hand, stepped stealthily on tiptoe.
In silence they both inspected the sleeping André. Then Yvonne very cautiously inserted her hand inside the sleeper’s coat and probed as it were gently. The pair inspected the despatch closely, smiling when they observed the handwriting on the cover. Then with the same practised sureness of touch, they rebuttoned the coat, and withdrew as noiselessly as they had entered; but as they reached the threshold a little tongue of flame from one of the logs on the fire suddenly revealed the face of Yvonne’s companion to be that of the Chevalier de St. Amant.
Outside the door, the girl hung her lantern quietly on the wall in the passage.
“Why hasn’t François come?” she asked, in an anxious whisper.
“François will never come,” the Chevalier replied, very curtly.
“Do you”—she pushed back her matted hair with a gesture of horror—“do you——”
“Yes, I do. The English have been on François’s track for some time. He was last seen, I learn, loitering about the Carrefour de St. Antoine. Poor fool, why did he go there, of all places? He has disappeared and——”
“George Onslow?” she interrupted with a flash of anger.
“I fear so. Onslow is mad with despair and wrath. He had discovered François’s trade and his Jacobite employers; and the English Government pays handsomely for Jacobite secrets. Onslow, too, was convinced he would get no more papers as he had got them before, and so——”