Two hours’ further riding at an easy pace brought them to a village, where they were hospitably received at the house of the maire of the place.

The start was again made early.

“We must do our best today,” the marquis said.  “We have a fifty-five mile ride before us; and if the horses take us there, their work is done, so we can press them to the utmost.  The troops will have been marching all night along the road on which the innkeeper set them; but by this morning they will begin to suspect that they have been put on a false scent, and as likely as not will send to Nantes.  We must be first there, if possible.”

The horses, however, tired by their long journeys on the two preceding days, flagged greatly during the last half of the journey, and it was late in the afternoon before they came in sight of Nantes.  At a slight rise half a mile from the town Rupert looked back along the straight, level road on which they had ridden the last few miles of the journey.

“There is a body of men in the distance, marquis.  A troop of cavalry, I should say.  They are a long way behind—­three miles or so; and if they are in chase of us, their horses must be fagged; but in five-and-twenty minutes they will be here.”

They urged their weary steeds into a gallop as far as the town, and then rode quietly along the streets into an inn yard.  Here they dismounted in a leisurely way.

“Take the horses round to the stable, rub them down and give them food,” the marquis said to the ostler who came out.

Then turning to the host, he said: 

“A sitting room, with a good fire.  Two bedrooms for myself and my daughter, a bedroom for my servant.  Prepare a meal at once.  We have a friend to see before we enter.”

So saying, he turned with his daughter, as if to retrace his steps up the street; but on reaching the first side street, turned, and then, by another street, made his way down to the river, Rupert following closely behind.

“There is La Belle Jeanne,” the marquis exclaimed.  “That is fortunate.  The captain said he should be returning in a week or ten days, so I hope he has his cargo on board, and will be open to make a start at once.”

Chapter 26:  The Siege of Tournai.

In a few minutes they were alongside the lugger.

“Maitre Nicolay!  Maitre Nicolay!” the marquis shouted.

“Holloa!” and a head showed up the companion.

On seeing who it was, the speaker emerged.

“It is you, Maitre Perrot.”

“Have you your cargo on board?”

“Every barrel,” said the skipper.  “We sail tomorrow morning.”

“I will give you two hundred and fifty louis if you will sail in ten minutes, and as much more if you land us safely in England.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It is a bargain.  Holloa!  Pierre!  Etienne!”