“Not yet;” and the force of his gaze turned hers aside.  “Yet I must not forget my conscience; ’tis pretty well battered up.”

She greeted this with laughter.  She had heard men talk like this before.  “You have probably never done a mean or petty thing in all your life.”

“Mean and petty things never disturb a man’s conscience.  It’s the big things that scar.”

“That’s a platitude.”

“Then my end of the conversation is becoming flat.”

“Confess that you are eager to return to the great highways once more.”

“I shall confess nothing of the sort.  I should like to stay here for a hundred years.”

“You would miss us all very much then,” merrily.  “And Napoleon’s treasure would have gone in and out of innumerable pockets!”

“Do you really and truly believe that we shall bring home a single franc of it?” facing her with incredulous eyes.

“Really and truly.  And why not?  Treasures have been found before.  Fie on you for a Doubting Thomas!”

“We sometimes go many miles to find, in the end, that the treasure was all the time under our very eyes.”

“Hyperbole!” But she looked down at the lichen again and began pealing it off the stone.  She thought of a duke she knew.  At this instant he would have been telling her that she was the most beautiful woman since Helen.  What a relief this man at her side was!  She was perfectly aware that he admired her, but he veiled his tributes with half-smiles and flashes of humor.  “What a gay little man that Mr. Ferraud is!”

“Lively as a cricket.  Your father, I understand, is to take him as far as Marseilles.  After to-night everything will be quite formal, I suppose.  Honestly, I feel ill at ease in accepting your splendid hospitality.  I’m an interloper.  I haven’t even the claim of an ordinary introduction.  It has been very, very kind of you.”

“You know Mrs. Coldfield.  I will, if you wish it, ask her to present you to me.”

“I am really serious.”

“So am I.”

“They will be here to-morrow?”

“Yes.  And in four days we sail.  Oh, it is all so beautiful!  A real treasure hunt.”

“It does not seem possible that I have been here a week.  It has been a long time since I enjoyed myself so thoroughly.  Have you ever wondered what has become of the other man?”

“The other man?”

“Yes; the other one in or outside the chimney.  I’ve been thinking about him this long while.  Hasn’t it occurred to you that he may have other devices?”

“If he has he will find that he has waited too long.  But I would like to know how he found out.  You see,” triumphantly, “he believed that there is one.”  She shook the rein, for the sleek mare was nozzling her shoulder and pawing slightly, “Let us be off.”

She put her small booted foot on his palm and vaulted into the saddle, and he swung on to his mount.  He stuffed his cap into a pocket, for he was no fair-weather horseman, but loved the tingle of the wind rushing through his hair; and the two cantered down the clear sandy road.