"Hum!" said the Captain. "And you gave me a stiff job by yourself, eh?" He turned and signalled to the driver, who had now reached the Cross:
"Wait a moment there, my friend." Then he turned back again to Guillaume. "Get into the carriage--go to Sasellano; catch Paul if you can, but leave me in peace," he said, and, diving into his pocket, he produced the five notes of a thousand francs which Paul de Roustache, in some strange impulse of repentance, or gratitude, had handed to him. "What you tell your employers," he added, "I don't care. This is a gift from me to you. The deuce, I reward effort as well as success--I am more liberal than your Government." The gesture with which he held out the notes was magnificent.
Guillaume stared at him in amazement, but his hand went out towards the notes.
"I am free to do what I can at Sasellano?"
"Yes, free to do anything except bother me. But I think your bird will have flown."
Guillaume took the notes and hid them in his pocket; then he walked straight up to the driver, crying, "How much to take me with you to Sasellano?"
The driver looked at him, at Dieppe, and then down towards the river.
"Come, the flood will be less by now; the river will be falling," said Dieppe.
"Fifty francs," said the driver, and Guillaume got in.
"Good!" said the Captain to himself. "A pretty device! And that scoundrel's money did n't lie comfortably in the pocket of a gentleman." He waved his hand to Guillaume and was about to turn away, when the driver came up to him and spoke in a cautious whisper, first looking over his shoulder to see whether his new fare were listening; but Guillaume was sucking at a flask.
"Ah, you took her there?" The Captain frowned heavily.
"Yes, and left her there. But it's not from her; it's from another lady whom I had n't seen before. She met me just as I was returning from the Count's, and bade me look out for you by the Cross--"
"Yes, yes?" cried Dieppe, eagerly. "Give me the message." For his thoughts flew back to the Countess at the first summons.
The driver produced a scrap of paper, carelessly folded, and gave it to him.
Dieppe ran to the carriage and read the message by the light of its dim and smoky lamp:
"I think I am in time. Come; I wait for you. Whatever you see, keep Andrea in the dark. If you are discreet, all will be well, and I--I shall be very grateful."
