Chapter 25:  Flight and Pursuit.

It was early in the afternoon when Monsieur Perrot, with his daughter behind him on a pillion, and his servant riding a short distance in the rear, rode under the gateway of Parthenay.  A party of soldiers were at the gateway, and a gendarmerie officer stood near.  The latter glanced carelessly at the passport which the merchant showed him, and the travellers rode on.

“Peste!” one of the soldiers said; “what is monsieur the Marquis de Pignerolles doing here, riding about dressed as a bourgeois, with a young woman at his back?”

“Which is the Marquis de Pignerolles?” one of the others said.

“He who has just ridden by.  He was colonel of my regiment, and I know him as well as I do you.”

“It can’t be him, Pierre.  I saw Louis Godier yesterday, he has come home on leave—­he belongs to this town, you know—­wounded at Lille.  He was telling me about the siege, and he said that the marquis was taken prisoner by the English.”

“Prisoner or not prisoner,” the other said obstinately, “that is the marquis.  Why, man, do you think one could be mistaken in his own colonel?—­a good officer, too; rather strict perhaps, but a good soldier, and a lion to fight.”

The gendarme moved quietly away, and repeated what he had heard to his captain.

“The Marquis de Pignerolles, travelling under the name of Monsieur Perrot, silk merchant of Nantes, with a young lady behind him,” the officer exclaimed.  “While he is supposed to be a prisoner in England?  This must be his daughter, for whom we made such a search two years ago, and who has been on our lists ever since.

“This is important, Andre.  I will go at once to the prefecture, and obtain an order for their arrest.  They will be sure to have put up at the Fleur de Lys, it is the only hostelry where they could find decent accommodation.  Go at once, and keep an eye on them.  There is no great hurry, for they will not think of going further today, and the prefect will be at dinner just at present, and hates being disturbed.”

The marquis and Adele were standing over a blazing fire of logs in the best room of the Fleur de Lys, when Rupert, who was looking out of the casemented window, said: 

“Monsieur le marquis, I do not want to alarm you unnecessarily, but there is a gendarme on the other side of the street watching this house.  He was standing by a group of soldiers at the gate when we rode through.  I happened to notice him particularly.

“He is walking slowly backwards and forwards.  I saw him when I was at the door a quarter of an hour ago, and he is there still, and just now I saw him glance up at these windows.  He is watching us.  That is why I made an excuse to come up here to ask you about the horses.”

“Are you sure, Rupert?”

“Quite sure,” Rupert said, gravely.

“Then there is no doubt about it,” the marquis said; “for I know that you would not alarm us unnecessarily.  What do you advise?”