The reader will not have forgotten the situation in which the escort of
chasseurs found the Chambéry mail-coach.
The first thing they did was to look for the obstacle which prevented
Roland from getting out. They found the padlock and wrenched off the
door.
Roland bounded from the coach like a tiger from its cage. We have said
that the ground was covered with snow. Roland, hunter and soldier, had
but one idea--to follow the trail of the Companions of Jehu. He had seen
them disappear in the direction of Thoissy; but he believed they were
not likely to continue in that direction because, between them and the
little town ran the Saône, and there were no bridges across the river
between Belleville and Mâcon. He ordered the escort and the conductor
to wait for him on the highroad, and alone and on foot, without even
waiting to reload his pistols, he started on the tracks of Morgan and
his companions.
He was not mistaken. A mile from the highroad the fugitives had come
to the river; there they had halted, probably deliberating, for the
trampling of their horses’ hoofs was plainly visible; then they had
separated into two troops, one going up the river to Mâcon, and the
other descending it in the direction of Belleville.
This separation was doubtless intended to puzzle their pursuers, if
they were pursued. Roland had heard the parting call of the leader:
“To-morrow night, you know where!” He had no doubt, therefore, that
whichever trail he followed, whether up or down--if the snow did not
melt too fast--would lead him to the rendezvous, where, either together
or singly, the Companions of Jehu were certain to assemble.
He returned upon his own tracks, ordered the conductor to put on the
boots thrown aside by the pretended postilion, mount the horse and
take the coach to the next relay, namely Belleville. The sergeant of
chasseurs and four of his men, who knew how to write, were to accompany
the conductor and sign his report of what had occurred. Roland forbade
all mention of himself and where he had gone, lest the brigands should
get word of his future plans. The rest of the escort were to carry back
their colonel’s body, and make deposition on their own account, along
the same lines as the conductor, to the authorities, and equally without
mention of Roland.
These orders given, the young man dismounted a chasseur and took his
horse, selecting the one he thought most serviceable. Then he reloaded
his pistols, and put them in the holsters in place of the regulation
weapons of the dismounted chasseur. Having done this, and promised the
conductor and the chasseurs a speedy vengeance, conditioned, however, on
their keeping his present proceedings secret, he mounted the horse and
rode off in the direction he had already investigated.
When he reached the spot where the two troops had separated, he had to
decide between the different trails. He chose that which descended the
Saône toward Belleville. He had excellent reason for making this choice,
although it might possibly take him out of his way for six or eight
miles. In the first place he was nearer Belleville than Mâcon; then he
had spent twenty-four hours at Mâcon, and might be recognized there,
whereas he had never stopped at Belleville longer than the time required
to change horses when accident brought him there by post.
The events we have just recorded had taken barely an hour to happen.
Eight o’clock was striking from the church clock at Thoissy when Roland
started in pursuit of the fugitives. The way was plain; five or six
horses had left their imprint on the snow; one of these horses had
paced.
Roland jumped the two or three brooks which watered the space he had to
cross to reach Belleville. A hundred yards from the town he paused, for
here the trail separated again; two of the six travellers had turned to
the right, that is to say, they had struck away from the river, the
four others to the left, continuing on their way to Belleville. At the
outskirts of the town, another secession had taken place; three of the
riders had gone round the town, one had entered it.
Roland followed the latter, sure that he could recover the traces of the
others. The one who had entered the town and followed the main street
had stopped at a pretty house between court and garden, numbered 67. He
had rung and some one had let him in; for through the iron grating could
be seen traces of footsteps, and beside them the tracks of a horse being
led to the stable.
It was quite evident that one, at least, of the Companions of Jehu
had stopped there. By going to the mayor of the town, exhibiting his
authority, and asking for gendarmes, Roland could have arrested him at
once. But that was not his object; he did not wish to arrest a solitary
individual; he wanted to catch the whole company in a trap.
He made a note in his mind of No. 67, and continued on his way. He
crossed the entire town and rode a few hundred paces beyond it without
meeting any fresh traces. He was about to return, when it occurred to
him that, if the tracks of the three riders reappeared anywhere, it
would be at the head of the bridge. And there, sure enough, he found the
hoof-prints of three horses, which were undoubtedly those he sought, for
one of them paced.
Roland galloped in pursuit. On reaching Monceaux--same precaution,
the riders had skirted the village; but Roland was too good a scout to
trouble himself about that. He kept on his way, and at the other end of
Monceaux he recovered the fugitives’ tracks. Not far from Châtillon one
of the three horses had left the highroad, turning to the right toward
a little château, standing on a hill a short distance from the road
between Châtillon and Trévoux. This time the three remaining riders,
evidently believing they had done enough to mislead any one who might be
following, had kept straight on through Châtillon and taken the road to
Neuville.
The direction taken by the fugitives was eminently satisfactory to
Roland; they were undoubtedly on their way to Bourg; if they had not
intended to go there they would have taken the road to Marlieux. Now,
Bourg was the headquarters Roland had himself chosen for the centre
of his own operations; it was his own town, and he knew, with the
minuteness of boyish knowledge, every bush, every ruin, every cavern in
the neighborhood.
At Neuville the riders had skirted the village. Roland did not trouble
himself about a ruse, already known and thwarted; but on the other side
he found but one trail. He could not be mistaken in that horse, however;
it was the pacer. Certain of recovering the trail again, Roland retraced
his steps. The two riders had separated at a road leading off to Vannes;
one had taken that road, the other had skirted the village, which, as
we have said, was on the road to Bourg. This was the one to follow;
besides, the gait of the horse made it easier, as it could not be
confused with any other. Moreover, he was on his way to Bourg, and
between Neuville and Bourg there was but one other village, that of
Saint-Denis. For the rest, it was not probable that the solitary rider
intended to go further than Bourg.
Roland continued on his way with more eagerness than ever, convinced
that he was nearing the end. In fact the rider had not skirted Bourg,
but had boldly entered the town. There, it seemed to Roland that the
man had hesitated, unless this hesitation were a last ruse to hide his
tracks. But after ten minutes spent in following his devious tracks
Roland was sure of his facts; it was not trickery but hesitation.
The print of a man’s steps came from a side street; the traveller and
the pedestrian had conferred together for a moment, and then the former
had evidently employed the latter as a guide. From that point on, the
footsteps of a man went side by side with those of the horse. Both came
to an end at the hôtel de la Belle-Alliance. Roland remembered that the
horse wounded in the attack at Les Carronnières had been brought to this
inn. In all probability there was some connivance between the inn-keeper
and the Companion of Jehu. For the rest, in all probability the rider
would stay there until the next evening. Roland felt by his own fatigue
that the man he was following must need rest. And Roland, in order
not to force his horse and the better to reconnoitre the tracks he was
following, had taken six hours to do thirty miles.
Three o’olock was striking from the truncated bell-tower of Nôtre-Dame.
Roland debated what to do. Should he stop at some inn in the town?
Impossible, he was too well known in Bourg; besides, his horse with
its cavalry saddle-cloth would excite suspicion. It was one of the
conditions of success that his presence at Bourg should remain unknown.
He could hide at the Château des Noires-Fontaines and keep on the watch,
but could he trust the servants? Michel and Jacques would hold their
tongues, Roland was sure of them; but Charlotte, the jailer’s daughter,
she might gossip. However, it was three o’clock in the morning, every
one was asleep, and the safest plan was certainly to put himself in
communication with Michel. Michel would find some way of concealing his
presence.
To the deep regret of his horse, who had no doubt scented a stable,
Roland wheeled about and rode off in the direction of Pont-d’Ain. As he
passed the church of Brou he glanced at the barrack of the gendarmes,
where, in all probability, they and their captain were sleeping the
sleep of the righteous.
Roland cut through the little strip of forest which jutted into the
road. The snow deadened the sound of his horse’s hoofs. Branching into
the road from the other side, he saw two men slinking along in the
ditch, carrying a deer slung by its forelegs to a sapling. He thought he
recognized the cut of the two men, and he spurred his horse to overtake
them. The men were on the watch; they turned, saw the rider, who was
evidently making for them, flung the animal into the ditch, and made for
the shelter of the forest of Seillon.
“Hey, Michel!” cried Roland, more and more convinced that he had to do
with his own gardener.
Michel stopped short; the other man kept on his way across the fields.
“Hey, Jacques!” shouted Roland.
The other man stopped. If they were recognized, it was useless to fly;
besides, there was nothing hostile in the call; the voice was friendly,
rather than threatening.
“Bless me!” said Jacques, “it sounds like M. Roland.”
“I do believe it is he,” said Michel.
And the two men, instead of continuing their flight, returned to the
highroad.
Roland had not heard what the two poachers had said, but he had guessed.
“Hey, the deuce! of course it is I,” he shouted.
A minute more and Michel and Jacques were beside him. The questions
of father and son were a crossfire, and it must be owned they had good
reason for amazement. Roland, in civilian’s dress, on a cavalry horse,
at three in the morning, on the road from Bourg to the château! The
young officer cut short all questions.
“Silence, poachers!” said he, “put that deer behind me and be off at
trot to the château. No one must know of my presence there, not even my
sister.”
Roland spoke with military precision, and both men knew that when he
gave an order there was no replying. They picked up the deer, put it
behind his saddle, and followed the gentle trot of the horse at a run.
There was less than a mile to do, and it took but ten minutes. At a
short distance from the château, Roland pulled up. The two men went
forward as scouts to see if all were quiet. Satisfied on that point,
they made a sign to Roland to advance.
Roland came, dismounted, found the door of the lodge open, and entered.
Michel took the horse to the stable and carried the deer to the kitchen;
for Michel belonged to that honorable class of poachers, who kill game
for the pleasure of killing, and not for the selfish interest of sale.
There was no need for precaution, either for horse or deer; for Amélie
took no more notice of what went on in the stable than of what they
served her to eat.
During this time Jacques lighted the fire. When Michel returned he
brought the remains of a leg of mutton and some eggs for an omelet.
Jacques made up a bed in the office.
Roland warmed himself and ate his supper without saying a word. The two
men looked at each other with an astonishment that was not devoid of a
certain degree of anxiety. A rumor of the expedition to Seillon had got
about, and it was whispered that Roland had led it. Apparently, he had
returned for another similar expedition.
When Roland had finished his supper he looked up and saw Michel.
“Ah! so there you are?” he exclaimed.
“I am waiting for Monsieur’s orders.”
“Here they are; listen carefully.”
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s a question of life or death; of more than that, of my honor.”
“Speak, Monsieur Roland.”
Roland pulled out his watch.
“It is now five o’clock. When the inn of the Belle-Alliance opens, be
there, as if you were just sauntering by; then stop a minute to chat
with whoever opens it.”
“That will probably be Pierre.”
“Pierre or another; find out from him who the traveller is who arrived
last night on a pacing horse. You know what pacing is, don’t you?”
“The deuce! You mean a horse that goes like a bear, both feet forward at
the same time.”
“Bravo! You can also find out whether the traveller is leaving this
morning, or whether he proposes to spend the day at the hotel, can’t
you?”
“Of course I can find that out.”
“Well, when you have found out all that, come and tell me; but remember,
not a word about my being here. If any one asks about me, say that they
had a letter from me yesterday, and that I was in Paris with the First
Consul.”
“That’s understood.”
Michel departed. Roland went to bed and to sleep, leaving Jacques to
guard the building.
When Roland awoke Michel had returned. He had found out all that his
master desired to know. The horseman who had arrived in the night was
to leave the next morning, and on the travellers’ register, which
every innkeeper was obliged by law to keep in those days, was entered:
“Saturday, 30th Pluviose, _ten at night_; the citizen Valensolle, from
Lyons going to Geneva.” Thus the alibi was prepared; for the register
would prove that the citizen Valensolle had arrived at ten o’clock, and
it was impossible that he could have assisted in robbing the mail-coach
near the Maison-Blanche at half-past eight and yet have reached the
Hotel de la Belle-Alliance at ten.
But what impressed Roland the most was that the man he had followed
through the night, and whose name and retreat he had just discovered,
was none other than the second of Alfred de Barjols, whom he himself
had killed in a duel near the fountain of Vaucluse; and that that second
was, in all probability, the man who had played the part of ghost at the
Chartreuse of Seillon.
So, then, the Companions of Jehu were not mere thieves, but, on the
contrary, as rumor said, gentlemen of good family, who, while the noble
Bretons were laying down their lives for the royalist cause in the West,
were, here in the East, braving the scaffold to send to the combatants
the money they took from the government.