Six days later, when Desmond was engaged in the fencing room, Callaghan came in, and told him that a gentleman was at his quarters, wishing particularly to see him.

"What is his name?"

"Sure, and I don't know, your honour. He did not mention it, and it was not for the likes of me to ask him."

"Ridiculous, Mike! In future, when anyone comes and wishes to see me, you will say, 'What name shall I tell Mr. Kennedy?'"

He put on his uniform coat reluctantly, for he was engaged in an interesting bout with a professor, who was an old friend of the maitre d'armes. As he entered his room, a young man, who had been staring out of the window, and drumming impatiently with his fingers, turned. He was a stranger to Desmond.

"I am Desmond Kennedy, sir," the young officer said. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

The other did not reply, but stood looking at him, in so strange and earnest a way, that Desmond felt almost uneasy.

"Sir," his visitor said at last, advancing to him and holding out both hands, "when I tell you that my name is Philip de la Vallee, you will understand what must strike you as my singular behaviour. I arrived last night at Versailles, and heard all that had happened. You can imagine, therefore, that my heart is almost too full for words, with gratitude and thankfulness."

Desmond was moved by the emotion of his visitor, and their hands met in a hearty clasp. Monsieur de la Vallee was a young man, of four or five and twenty, well proportioned, and active and sinewy from his devotion to field sports. He was about the same height as Desmond himself, but the latter, who had not yet finished growing, was larger boned, and would broaden into a much bigger and more powerful man.

"Henceforth, Monsieur Kennedy," de la Vallee went on, "I hope that we shall be as brothers, and more. Had it not been for you, my life would have been a ruined one. What agony have I been saved! It makes me mad, to think that I was idling at home, ignorant that my beloved had been carried away. I do not blame the baron for not informing me, and I acknowledge that the reasons he gave me were good ones. I could have done nothing, and should but have added to his troubles by my anxiety and anger. Still, he told me that, in another day or two, he would have felt that I ought no longer to be kept in the dark, and would have summoned me to Paris. I am thankful now that he did not do so, for I believe that my impotence to do anything would have driven me almost to distraction."

"I agree with you that the baron acted wisely," Kennedy said. "Had not chance, or Providence, taken me past the house where she was imprisoned, at the very moment when Mademoiselle Pointdexter cried for help, she might, for aught I can say, have remained a captive there for months, or even years."

"It was Providence, indeed, Monsieur Kennedy. Providence, not only that she should have cried at that moment, but that her cries should have reached the ears of one so ready and able to save her. And now, I pray you, call me Philip, and allow me to call you Desmond, as a pledge of our close friendship."

"With pleasure," Kennedy replied; and the compact was sealed with another close grasp of the hand.

"It is strange, Desmond, that while the king, who had but little interest in the matter, could present you, as I am told he did, with a diamond ring, the baron and I, who owe you so much, can do nothing to show our gratitude."

Desmond smiled.

"I can assure you that I need no such tokens," he said. "The thanks that I have received, from you both, are infinitely more grateful to me than any amount of rings and jewels."

"And now, my friend," Philip de la Vallee went on, "my own burning desire is to go to de Tulle, as soon as I have accompanied the baron and Anne to their home; first, to publicly chastise this villain noble; and then, of course, to fight him. Naturally, I have said nothing of this to the baron, but I feel, after what has happened, that in you I shall find an adviser, and a sympathizer."

"I sympathize with you, most heartily, Philip, and in your place should feel the same impulse; and yet, it would not be wise to give way to it. I say this on the ground that he is a notoriously good swordsman, and that, instead of your taking vengeance upon him, he might kill you.

"I feel that that argument would not have any influence with you personally, but, taking your position with regard to Mademoiselle de Pointdexter, it should have great weight. You can judge, from what you would have felt yourself, had you been aware of her disappearance, what she would feel, did she hear of your death in this quarrel. Were you her brother, I should say that you would be right—nay, that it would be your duty to endeavour to punish the outrage against the honour of your family. Were you openly betrothed to her, you would again have the right to punish her abductor; but, not being either her brother or her betrothed, neither reason nor public opinion would justify your doing so. Moreover, did you fight with him and kill him, you would incur the gravest resentment of the king; for, in fact, you would be impugning his justice, which has considered banishment from court to be a sufficient punishment for his offence. Not only was he a favourite of the king's, but he belongs, I understand, to a powerful family; who would, you may be sure, use their influence with the king to bring about your punishment, for the breach of the decree against duelling, and you would be fortunate if you escaped a long imprisonment."

The other was silent.

"I feel that you are right," he said, at last, "but, indeed, it is hard that I should not be able to avenge this outrage upon the lady who is to be my wife. I may tell you that, as soon as we return home, our formal betrothal is to take place, and ere long our marriage will be celebrated; but I shall feel lowered, in my own esteem, if I sit down quietly under this injury."

"I do not see that," Desmond said. "If you abstain from challenging de Tulle, it is from no fear of the consequences, but it is, as I have shown you, because, whatever the issue of the contest, it would be bad both for you and her. If you were killed, her life would be spoilt. If you killed him, you might languish for years in one of the royal prisons. The king prides himself on his justice, and, by all accounts, rightly so; and I am sure that he would feel the deepest resentment, were you or anyone to show, by your actions, that you considered he has favoured the transgressor."

"You are right, Desmond; and, at any rate for the present, I will put my intention aside; but should he ever cross my path, assuredly I will have a reckoning with him.

"But how is it that you, who are at least eight years younger than I am, should argue as an old counsellor rather than a young ensign?"

"I suppose, in the first place, it is from my bringing up. I lived with and was educated by a good priest, one not wanting in manliness and energy, but who often deplored the system of duelling, which is as strong with us as it is here, and denounced it as a relic of barbarism, and, at any rate, never to be put in use on account of a heated quarrel over wine, but only if some deadly injury had been inflicted, and even then better left alone. Of course, as an officer in one of His Majesty's regiments, I should be obliged to conform to the general usage; for, did I decline, I should be regarded as having brought dishonour on the corps. But my case differs altogether from yours.

"In the next place, knowing you were coming to Versailles, I thought over what course you would be likely to pursue, and considered it was probable you would lose no time in challenging de Tulle. I have thought the matter over, in every light, and made up my mind to endeavour to dissuade you from doing so, if the opportunity offered.

"So you see," he added with a smile, "I had prepared my array of arguments against it; and I cannot but think that the opinion of one interested, but not vitally so, on a point, is rather to be taken than that of a person smarting under an injury."

"And now, to turn to other matters. In three days we start for the south. The baron accompanied me here, and went to see your colonel, while I came to your quarters. His object was to ask him to grant you a month's leave of absence, with the provision, of course, that you should return at once, if the regiment was ordered on service."

"It is kind, indeed, of him," Desmond said, "but I doubt whether the colonel will assent. It is not a month since I was dismissed from drill, and took my place with my company, and I doubt whether he will consider that I am sufficiently versed in my duties, or that, after being so short a time in the regiment, I have any right to leave."

"What you say is right enough, under ordinary circumstances, but these are altogether extraordinary. Then, after what you have done, he will feel it but natural that we should wish to have you with us for a time. Moreover, I do not consider that our journey will be altogether unattended by danger. From what I have heard of de Tulle, he is a man who never forgives, and will pursue his object with the pertinacity of a bloodhound. He has failed in his first attempt, but there is no reason why he should not renew it, confident, perhaps, that if successful the king, though he may feel it necessary to feign much anger for a time, will finally forgive him and take him into favour again, especially as his family would bring all their influence to bear to bring this about. Doubtless, he will be kept perfectly informed of what is going on here. There are several forests to be traversed on the way, and these are, for the most part, the haunts of robber bands; and, should the carriage be found overturned, and the baron and his daughter missing, it would be put down as their work. Having the baron as well as his daughter in his power, de Tulle would find it easier than before to compel Anne to purchase her father's freedom, as well as her own, by consenting to his terms.

"Therefore, you see, the aid of a sword like yours would be valuable, and no doubt your servant, who is also a sturdy fighter, will accompany us."

"I can hardly think that de Tulle would venture upon so bold a stroke as that, and yet he might do so. Men of that kind are not accustomed to be thwarted, and it would be a satisfaction to his resentment at his former failure, as well as the attainment of the wide estates of which Anne is heiress."

At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the baron entered.

"My dear Monsieur Kennedy," he said, "I have succeeded. Colonel O'Brien has been pleased to say that you have been so assiduous, in learning your duties, that he considers you as capable of performing them as any of his subalterns; and that you have just brought so much credit on the regiment, that he is pleased to be able to grant the favour I asked. Here is your furlough, duly signed. Now it only rests with yourself, to accept or refuse my invitation."

"I accept it most gladly, Baron. It will give me the greatest pleasure to accompany you, and mademoiselle, and Monsieur de la Vallee, whom I now regard as a dear friend, to your home."

"That is settled, then," the baron said. "We start early on Thursday morning. It would be well, therefore, if you were to ride over on Wednesday evening, and occupy one of the many spare chambers there are in the house."

"I will do so willingly; and I shall ask the colonel to allow my servant to accompany me."

"That is already settled. I told Colonel O'Brien that I owed much to him also, and he at once acceded to my request, saying that, although the wound is healing, the surgeon said that it would be a fortnight, yet, before he will be fit for service; and, moreover, that it was a custom when an officer went on leave that he should, if he wished it, take his soldier servant with him."

"Thank you again, Baron. Mike is a faithful fellow, and a shrewd one. I am so accustomed now to his services that I should miss them, and his talk, very much."

"Have you heard, Mike," Desmond asked, when his servant came up to his room, after the baron and Philip de la Vallee had left, "that you are to go with me, to stay for a month, at Pointdexter?"

"I have, your honour. Sure, I was sent for to the colonel's quarters, and there I found a tall gentleman, whom I had never seen before, as far as I knew.

"'This is Mike Callaghan, Mr. Kennedy's servant,' the colonel said, and the baron stepped forward, and shook hands with me, for all the world as if I had been a noble like himself; and he said:

"'My brave fellow, I have to thank you for the aid you gave your master in rescuing my daughter, in which service you received the wound which still keeps your arm in a sling. Here is a token that we are not ungrateful for the service. If you will take my advice, you will hand it to an agent of mine here in Paris, who will keep it for you, and you may find it useful when the time comes for you to take your discharge.'

"So saying, he put a heavy purse into my hand, and said:

"'You will find my agent's name and address on a card inside the purse. I shall go round to him, now, and tell him that you are coming, and that he is to use the money to your advantage, and to hand it over to you whenever you choose to ask for it. Your master is coming down to stay for a month with me, and Colonel O'Brien has granted leave for you to accompany him.'

"I thanked him heartily, as you may believe, sir; though, as I said, I wanted no reward for obeying your orders, and for the share I took in that little skirmish. After I came out, I looked into the purse, which was mighty heavy, expecting to find a handful of crowns; and it fairly staggered me when I found that it was full of gold pieces, and on counting them, found that there were a hundred louis. Never did I dream that I should be so rich. Why, your honour, when I lave the regiment, which will not be for many a long year, I hope, I shall be able to settle down comfortably, for the rest of my life, in a snug little shebeen, or on a bit of land with a cottage and some pigs, and maybe a cow or two; and it is all to your honour I owe it, for if you hadn't given the word, it would never have entered my head to attack a gentleman's house, merely because I heard a woman scream."

"Well, I am heartily glad, Mike; and I hope that you will take it straight to the agent's, and not break in upon it, by treating half the regiment to drink."

"I will, your honour. It was given me to stow away for the time when I might want it, and though I don't say that my own inclinations would not lead me to trate a few of the boys, I feel that I ought to do what the gentleman told me."

"Certainly you should, Mike. If you once began to spend it in that way, it is not one louis, but five or more, that would disappear in a few hours. I am heartily glad that the baron has so handsomely rewarded you for the service, and if you like, I will go round with you this afternoon to his agent, and see the money safely deposited."

"Thank you, your honour. I sha'n't feel easy, as long as I have got it in my pouch. I should suspict everyone who came near me, and should never dare take my hand off it, lest someone else might put his in."

"You are a lucky fellow, Kennedy," O'Neil said, when Desmond told his two comrades of the arrangements that had been made. "And, if you go on like this, the regiment will believe that any good fortune that may fall to its lot is the result of your luck."

"I really do not like having leave given to me, when I have been such a short time in the regiment. It does not seem fair upon others."

"No one will grudge you that," O'Sullivan said. "It is not as if we were at home. Then, of course, everyone would like his turn. But here, although we are soldiers of France, we are as strangers in the land. Here in Paris we have many acquaintances, and a welcome at most of the receptions; but that is the end of it. It is seldom, indeed, that we are invited into the country houses of those we know. That sort of hospitality is not the fashion in France. Here, nobles may throw open their houses to all gentlemen by birth who happen to be presented to them, but at home they are rigidly exclusive; and, moreover, I am inclined to think they regard us Irishmen as detrimental and dangerous. Many Irishmen make exceedingly good matches, and we are regarded as having a way with us, with the girls, that is likely to interfere with the arrangements their parents have made for their marriages. Now, it seems to me that your baron must be a very confiding old gentleman, or he would never take you to stay in the society of the young lady who owes so much to you. Faith, it seems to me that you have the ball at your feet, and that you have only to go in and win. From what I hear, Mademoiselle Pointdexter is no older than you are yourself, and it is a glorious chance for you."

Desmond broke into a laugh.

"My dear O'Sullivan," he said, "it seems to me that it is the favourite dream of Irish soldiers of fortune, that they may improve their circumstances by marriage."

"Well, there is no easier or more pleasant way," his friend said, stoutly.

"Possibly I may come to think so, in another ten years," Desmond went on, "but, at present, I have no more thought of marrying than I have of becoming king of France. The idea is altogether absurd, and it happens to be particularly so, in the present case, since one of the objects of my going down to Pointdexter is that I may be present at the formal betrothal of this young lady, to Monsieur de la Vallee, a neighbour of theirs, whom I had the pleasure of meeting this afternoon, and to whom she is tenderly attached."

"By the powers, but that is unlucky, Kennedy!" O'Neil said; "and I have been thinking that your fortune was made, and that the regiment would soon lose you, as you would, of course, settle down as a magnate in Languedoc; and now, it seems that what we thought the proper sequence of your adventure, is not to come off, after all. Well, lad, I congratulate you on putting a good face on it, and hiding your disappointment."

"What nonsense you talk!" Desmond said, laughing. "It is you who have been building castles, not I, and it is your disappointment that they have fallen to pieces."



Chapter 6: An Ambuscade.

On the morning arranged, the cavalcade started from Versailles. The baron had instructed the stable keeper, where the carriage and horses had been placed, to notify the Vicomte de Tulle that he held them at his disposal. The woman, who had been brought to Versailles, had been dismissed, after having made before a magistrate a deposition, stating how Mademoiselle de Pointdexter had been held a close prisoner, and that, with the exception of herself, no one whatever had entered her apartment, except that the Vicomte de Tulle had paid her a visit, of some five minutes' duration, on the morning after she was brought there. A copy of this was left in the magistrate's hands for safekeeping, while the original was kept by the baron, who regarded it as a most important document, concerning, as it did, the honour of his daughter.

Anne had travelled to Paris in the family coach, and she again, with her maid, took her place in it. The baron, Monsieur de la Vallee, and Desmond rode on horseback behind it, two armed retainers rode in front, and two others, with Mike, took their places behind. The old servitor sat on the front seat, by the side of the coachman.

"I do not think, Desmond," Philip de la Vallee said, as the baron fell back to talk for a while with his daughter, "that he has the slightest thought of our being attacked by any of the agents of the vicomte; but I have made a good many enquiries about the fellow, in the past few days, and from what I have heard I am still more convinced that, before long, he is likely to renew his attempt to get possession of Anne. I hear that his circumstances are well-nigh desperate. He has mortgaged the income of his estates, which, of course, he is unable to sell, as they go with the title to the heir. He is pressed by many creditors, who, now that he has lost the favour of the king, will give him no further grace. Indeed, I understand that the king, who is always liberal, and who not infrequently makes considerable gifts to the gentlemen of the court, to enable them to support the necessary expenses, has already assisted him several times, and that it was only by such aid that he has been able to hold on as long as he has done.

"He is, in fact, a desperate man, and his only hope is in making a wealthy alliance. Therefore, putting aside his pique and anger at having failed, the temptation to again obtain possession of Anne is great, indeed. Once married to her he could, even if the king kept him in banishment, well maintain his position as a country magnate."

"But Mademoiselle de Pointdexter cannot come into the estates until her father's death."

"Not his estates, but those of her mother, who was also a wealthy heiress, and of which she will enter into possession either on coming of age or on marrying. So, you see, he can afford to disregard the enmity of her father, as well as the displeasure of the king, which probably would soon abate after the marriage took place. If I had known, when I left home, what had happened, and that if she was found we should be returning home, I would have brought with me a dozen stout fellows from my own estate. As it is, I sent off a messenger, yesterday, with an order to my majordomo to pick out that number of active fellows, from among the tenantry, and to start with the least possible delay by the route that we shall follow, of which I have given him particulars. He is to ride forward until he meets us, so that when he joins us, we shall be too strong a party for any force that the vicomte is likely to gather to intercept us."

"A very wise precaution, Philip; but we shall be far upon our way, before this reinforcement can come up."

"We shall be some distance, I admit. My messenger will take fully five days in going. He will take another day to gather and arm the tenants, so that they will not start until two days afterwards. Then, however, they will travel at least twice as fast as we shall, hampered as we are by the carriage. I should have suggested that Anne should ride on a pillion, behind me or her father, but I did not do so, because it would have been necessary to explain to him my reasons for suggesting the change; and, moreover, I felt sure that he would not agree to it, had I done so. Baron Pointdexter is one of the largest landowners in Languedoc, and although one of the kindest and best of men, he has his full share of family pride, and would consider that it was derogatory to his position for his daughter to be riding about on a pillion, like the wife or daughter of some small landed proprietor or tenant farmer, instead of in a carriage, as becomes her station. Therefore, I must accept the situation, carriage and all, and I can only hope that this villain will not attempt to interfere with us before my men join us.

"Fortunately, even if a courier take the vicomte word that the baron and his daughter have made their adieus to His Majesty, the fellow cannot hear of it for two days, however fast the messenger may travel. Of course, Tulle is nigh a hundred miles nearer Paris than Pointdexter, which lies between Florac and Sainte Afrique, both of which towns lie within the circle of the estate. I admit that, foreseeing the baron is likely to return to his estates without delay, the vicomte may have made his preparations, and be ready to start as soon as he gets the news. Nevertheless, he will have a ride of some eighty miles to strike the road on which we shall be travelling. He may then move north, until he finds some suitable place for a surprise; but, even allowing for his exercising the greatest speed, we should be halfway from Paris before we can possibly meet him, and my men should join us by that time."

"You have forgotten one contingency, which would entirely alter the state of things."

"What is that?" Monsieur de la Vallee asked sharply.

"We give this villain noble credit for resource and enterprise. What more likely than that he has left a couple of his retainers at Versailles, with orders that, should any messenger be sent off by a southern road from the baron, his journey is to be cut short, and any paper or letter found upon him carried with all speed to Tulle? In that case, the chances of our being met by a reinforcement are very small."

"Peste! You are right, Desmond. I never gave the matter a thought. Now that you mention it, nothing is more probable. It was the servant who accompanied me whom I sent off, but, as de Tulle would have been notified of my arrival, and the man started from the baron's house, it would be deemed certain that he was either going to Pointdexter or my own estate, and that the message he carried was a somewhat urgent one. Well, all we can do is to hope that the fellow has not thought of our taking such a precaution, and that my messenger will arrive unmolested. Still, I acknowledge that the idea makes me anxious, and I fear that we shall not get through without serious trouble. There are so many disbanded soldiers, and other knaves, in the forests that de Tulle would have no difficulty in hiring any number of them, and carrying his scheme out without the assistance or knowledge of his own tenants. The heavy taxation necessary to keep up the expenses of the court has driven numbers of people to despair, and many hitherto law-abiding folk are being forced to leave their holdings, and to take to unlawful courses.

"However, it is of no use our telling the baron our fears. He is obstinate, when he has once made up his mind to a thing, and nothing short of a royal command would induce him either to change his route, or to stop at one of the towns that we shall pass through, and wait until my band arrives. He would, indeed, consider his honour greatly attainted by allowing himself to make a change of plans, on the mere chance that our suspicions were justified."

Six days passed without anything occurring. Impatient as Philip de la Vallee and Desmond were to get forward, they could not hurry the slow pace at which they travelled. Mademoiselle Pointdexter was now suffering from the reaction after her month of captivity and anxiety. The baron therefore travelled with provoking slowness. Obtaining, as he did, relays of horses at each post, they could without difficulty have travelled at almost double the rate at which they actually proceeded, but stoppages were made at all towns at which comfortable accommodation could be obtained. Indeed, in some places the roads were so bad that the carriage could not proceed at a pace beyond a walk, without inflicting a terrible jolting upon those within it.

"There is one comfort," Philip said, when he had been bewailing the slowness of their pace, "my men should reach us at Nevers, at the latest, and you may take it as tolerably certain that any attempt to interfere with us will take place considerably south of that town. I should guess that it would be somewhere between Moulins and Thiers. If our escort does not come before we reach Moulins, I shall begin to think that your suggestion was correct, and that my messenger has indeed been intercepted and slain."

Desmond could not gainsay the truth of his friend's calculation, but he said:

"Possibly, Philip, instead of being attacked by the way, de Tulle's agents might rob him of his letter at one of the inns at which he put up. Did he know its contents?"

"Yes. I told him that it contained an order for the majordomo to ride, with a troop of twelve men, to meet us, and that he was to give what aid he could in getting them together as quickly as possible; so that, even if robbed of the letter, he might still be able to fulfil his mission. Not, I own, that I thought of that at the time, for the idea that he might be stopped never once entered my mind."

At Nevers, Desmond went round to all the inns in the town, to enquire if any body of men had put up at that place, but without success. When he related his failure to obtain any news to Philip, the latter said:

"Well, we must hope that we shall meet them before we arrive at Moulins. If not, I shall no longer have any hope that my messenger got through safely, and then we shall have to consider whether it will not be necessary to inform the baron of our fears, and to get him to change his route and make a detour, cross the Loire at Bourbon, make for Maison, and then journey down on the other bank of the Saone as far as Pont Saint Esprit, and thence over the mountains to Florac."

"That would certainly be the safest plan, always providing that we have not been watched ever since we left Paris. The vicomte might well take this precaution, in case we should deviate from the regular route."

"Sapriste! Desmond, you are always full of evil prognostications. Still, as usual, I cannot but allow that there is reason in them."

"You see, Philip, we have plenty of time, as we travel at a snail's pace, and in the evening when we stop, to think over the affair in every light. I always put myself in the position of the Vicomte de Tulle, and consider what steps I should take to ensure success in my next attempt to carry off Mademoiselle de Pointdexter."

"Then I am very glad that you are not in the position of de Tulle, for, if you were, I should consider that all was lost, and that there was not a chink or crevice by which we could escape. It is monstrous that a nobleman cannot travel from Paris to his estate, without being obliged to take as many precautions as the general of an army would have to do, against the attack of an active and formidable enemy."

"And will you tell the baron, Philip?"

"I hardly know what to do in that respect, for after all, we have no solid foundation whatever for our uneasiness, beyond the fact that the men I sent for have not met us. All our apprehensions are due solely to the fact that this fellow is utterly unscrupulous, and that his whole future depends on his carrying out his insolent designs successfully. If we had any solid facts to work on, I would urge the baron to change his route, but I fear that he would not only scoff at our views that there may be danger, but might be angry at my taking the step of sending for a party of my retainers, without his being in any way consulted in the matter. At any rate, I feel sure that he would refuse to change his route, without some very much stronger reason than we can give him."

"Then we must let matters go on as they are, Philip. It may be that really we have been alarming ourselves without sufficient cause. If the worst comes to the worst, we can make a good fight for it."

"It is certainly hard on you. You have performed one brave action for us, at the risk of your life, and now you are thrust into another danger, perhaps even greater than the first, and this in a quarrel in which you have no concern whatever."

Desmond laughed.

"Do you not see, Philip, that the adventure is good training for a soldier, and that, if I am on duty in command of a company, I shall be all the more useful an officer for having served a sort of apprenticeship in surprises, ambuscades, and alarms. The journey has been vastly more interesting than it would have been under other circumstances. We should have found it dull, without such matter of interest as this affair has given us, and, even should nothing whatever come of it, it will have served its purpose by beguiling our journey, which, in truth, riding at so slow a pace, would otherwise scarce have been amusing."

"Well, then, it seems that the only thing that we can do is to see that the servants all keep their pistols charged, and are prepared to do their duty in case of sudden attack. Of course, at present they have no idea that any special danger threatens us; but I shall tell them, before I start in the morning, that we fear the road is dangerous owing to a band of robbers reported to be in the forest, and that they must hold themselves in readiness for action, in case we fall in with any of them. Old Eustace and the coachman have both got arquebuses. I shall tell them that, should they be attacked, they are to fire at once, and then the coachman is to whip up his horses and drive at full speed, while we endeavour to keep off the assailants."

"That would be of use, if the assailants should be for the most part on foot, but I think it more likely that they will be mounted, and however fast this lumbering carriage might go, they could easily keep up with it. Fight as hard as we may, the carriage must be overtaken if they are in sufficient force to overpower us. I should think that it would be well that you should warn Mademoiselle de Pointdexter that we hear the road is not very safe, and that, if there is trouble, she is on no account to attempt to leave the carriage. As long as she remains there she will run but little risk, for you may be sure that de Tulle will have issued the strictest orders that no pistol is to be fired in its direction. I have also little doubt that he has ordered the baron's life to be respected, because his death would greatly add to the anger that would be excited by the attack, and would also put a barrier between him and mademoiselle, who would naturally regard him with even more hostility than before, as the author of her father's death. Therefore, I trust that in any case his life and hers will not be endangered, however numerous our assailants might be."

"Yes, I have no doubt that that is so, Desmond, though I am sure that, were I wounded and on the point of death, I would rather know that Anne had fallen by a chance shot, than that she was in the power of this villain."

The next morning, they started very early for Moulins, for the journey would be a longer one than usual, and the road through the forest would probably be so rough, that the pace must necessarily be very slow. At two o'clock, the men riding ahead noticed that a tree had fallen across the road, and one of them galloped back and informed the baron of it.

"That is strange," the latter said. "There have been no storms for the past two days. It must have fallen quite recently, for otherwise the news would have been taken to the nearest commune, whose duty it would be to see at once to its removal."

Philip de la Vallee had, as the servant was speaking, glanced at Desmond. To both, it seemed that this obstacle could scarcely be the result of an accident.

"I will see how large the tree is," the baron said. "Whatever be its size, it is hard if eight men and four horses cannot drag it off the road."

So saying, he cantered forward, followed by the retainer, whose comrade also fell in as they passed him.

"Look to your arquebuses," Philip said to the two men on the box, and at the same time called up Mike and the two men, from behind.

"A tree has fallen across the road," he said to them, "and it is possible that this may be an ambush, and that we may be attacked, so hold yourselves in readiness, look to your pistols, and see that the priming is all right in the pans."

Then they went to the door of the carriage.

"It is just possible that we are going to have trouble, Anne," Philip said. "Remember what I told you last night, and on no account move from your seat, whatever may take place."

As he spoke, there was a discharge of firearms in front, and at the same moment a score of horsemen broke from the trees, and rode down upon the carriage. Their leader was masked.

As they came up, the coachman and Eustace discharged their arquebuses, emptying two saddles. Then, drawing their swords, both leapt to the ground. In the meantime Philip, Desmond, and the three men dashed at their assailants. Philip made for their leader, who, he doubted not, was the Vicomte de Tulle, but the latter drew a pistol and fired, when he was within a horse's length of him. The young man swayed in his saddle, and fell heavily to the ground, while a piercing cry from the carriage rose in the air.

Desmond, after cutting down the first man he encountered, turned his horse and attacked the masked figure, who met him with a fury that showed he was animated by personal animosity. His skill in fencing, however, gave him but slight advantage in such an encounter, while Desmond's exercise with the sabre, in the regimental salle d'armes, was now most useful to him. Enraged at the fall of his friend, and seeing that there was but a moment to spare, for already some of the other assailants were coming to the assistance of their chief, he showered his blows with such vehemence and fury that his opponent had enough to do to guard his head, without striking a blow in return.

Seeing in a moment that he would be surrounded, Desmond made a last effort. The vicomte's weapon shivered at the stroke, but it somewhat diverted the direction of the blow, and instead of striking him full on the head, the sword shore down his cheek, inflicting a ghastly wound, carrying away an ear as well as the cheek from the eye to the chin. Then, wheeling his horse, he dashed at two men who were riding at him.

The attack was so sudden that one of their horses swerved, and Desmond, touching his charger's flank with a spur, rode at him and hurled horse and rider to the ground. A backhanded blow struck his other opponent full in the throat, and then he dashed into the wood, shouting to Mike to follow him.

The two servitors had both fallen, and the greater part of the assailants were gathered round the carriage. Mike was engaged in a single combat with one of the horsemen, and had just run his opponent through when Desmond shouted to him; so, turning, he galloped after his master.

They were not pursued. The fall of their leader had, for the moment, paralysed the band, and while three or four of them remained by the carriage—whose last defender had fallen—the others, dismounting, ran to where the vicomte was lying.

"That has been a tough business, your honour," Mike said, as he joined his master. "It is right you were, sir, when you told me that you were afraid that rascal would try and hinder us on our way. Sure it has been a bad business, altogether. Monsieur Philip is killed, and the baron, too, I suppose, and all the others, and Miss Anne has fallen into the hands of that villain again."

"I do not think that the baron has been hurt, Mike. I expect the orders were only to take him prisoner."

"Where are we going, your honour?" Mike asked, for they were still galloping at full speed.

"I am going to get into the road again, and try to find help, at Moulins, to recover the young lady. There is one thing, she is not likely to be molested by that fellow for some little time."

"Then you did not kill him, your honour?"

"No. I cut through his guard, but it turned my sword. But I laid his face open, and it will be some time before he will be fit to show himself to a lady. If, as I expect, I can get no help at Moulins, I shall ride on to Monsieur de la Vallee's place, gather some men there, and try to cut the party off before they get to Tulle. If I am too late, I shall see what I can do to rescue them. From la Vallee I shall go to Pointdexter. I have no doubt that we can get together a force, there, large enough to besiege de Tulle's castle."

After an hour's ride, they arrived at Moulins, and Desmond rode at once to the mairie. Being in uniform, he was received with every respect by the mayor, who, however, on hearing his story, said that he did not see how he could interfere in the matter. It seemed to be a private quarrel between two nobles, and, even if he were ready to interpose, he had no force available; "but at the same time, he would send out four men, with a cart, to bring in any they might find with life in them."

"Very well, sir," Desmond said, indignantly. "You know your duty, I suppose, and I know mine, and I shall certainly report to the king your refusal to give any assistance to punish these ill doers."

So saying, he left the room, and at once rode to some stables. Leaving his horse and Mike's there, he hired others, and then continued his journey south at full speed, and before evening rode into Roanne. He knew that it was useless, endeavouring to stir up the authorities here, as they would naturally say that it was the business of the mayors at Nevers and Moulins, since the attack had taken place between those towns. Ordering fresh horses to be got ready, he said to Mike:

"Do you go to all the inns on the left of the main street—I will go to all those on the right—and enquire if a troop of mounted men have come in. I am afraid there is no chance of it, but it is at least worth the trial."

At the first four or five places he visited, the answer was that no such party had arrived; then, seeing one of the civic guards, he asked him if he had seen or heard of a troop of men passing through the town.

"Such a troop arrived an hour ago, Monsieur l'officier. They stopped, as they passed me, and asked if Monsieur le Baron Pointdexter, accompanied by a carriage and some servants, had passed through the town. They put up at the Soleil, and I should think that they are there now, for they had evidently made a long journey, and their horses were too worn out to go farther."

Delighted at the unexpected news, Desmond hurried to the inn. It was a second-class establishment, and evidently frequented by market people, as there were large stables attached to it. The landlord was standing at the door. He bowed profoundly, for it was seldom that guests of quality visited the inn.

"What can I do for monsieur?" he enquired.

"You have a party of travellers, who arrived an hour ago. I have business with them."

"You will find them in this room, monsieur," the landlord said, opening a door.

There were some twelve men inside. The remains of a repast were on the table. Some of the men were still sitting there, others were already asleep on benches. One, who was evidently their leader, was walking up and down the room impatiently. He looked up in surprise when Desmond entered.

"You are the intendant of Monsieur de la Vallee, are you not?"

"I am, sir," the man said, still more surprised.

"I am a friend of your master. We have been expecting to meet you, for the past four or five days. He was travelling south with the Baron de Pointdexter and his daughter. We were attacked, this afternoon, on the other side of Moulins. The baron and his daughter were, I believe, carried off; the servants all killed. I saw your master fall, but whether mortally wounded or not I cannot say.

"I and my servant cut our way through the assailants, who were led by the Vicomte de Tulle, who had before carried off Mademoiselle de Pointdexter. I was on my way south to la Vallee, with but faint hope of meeting you on the road."

"This is bad news indeed, sir," the intendant said. "I trust that my master is not killed, for we all loved him. As to Mademoiselle Pointdexter, it was an understood thing that she, one day, would be our mistress.

"It is not our fault that we are so late. Our master's messenger was attacked, near Nevers, and was left for dead on the road. The letter he bore, and his purse, were taken from him. The night air caused his wounds to stop bleeding, and he managed to crawl to Moulins. Having no money, he was unable to hire a horse, and indeed could not have sat one. He went to an inn frequented by market people, and there succeeded in convincing an honest peasant, who had come in with a cart of faggots, that his story was a true one, and promised him large pay on his arrival at la Vallee.

"The pace was, as you may imagine, a slow one, but two days ago he arrived home, and told me the story. I had the alarm bell at the castle rung at once, and in half an hour the tenants came in, and I chose these twelve, and started an hour later. Fortunately, the master had told the messenger what was the purport of his letter, and we have ridden night and day since. I am at your service, monsieur."

"In the first place, let your men have a sleep. It is eight o'clock now. I will give them seven hours. At three in the morning, we will mount. There are not beds enough here, but if you get some clean straw scattered down in one of the sheds, the men can lie there. In the meantime, I will go round and hire fresh horses, leaving your own in pledge for their safe return.

"You had better pick out two of your men to ride on to Moulins. The mayor there promised to send out a cart, to fetch in any wounded who might be found at the scene of the conflict. If, on their arrival, they find that Monsieur de la Vallee is not among these, they must ride on till they get there—it is some three leagues from the town—and bring in his body, together with those of his servants. They must arrange to give them Christian burial there, but your master's body they will, of course, take on to la Vallee.

"His last wish, of course, would be that Mademoiselle de Pointdexter should be rescued from the power of the villain noble who has carried her off. Starting in the morning so early, we shall have no difficulty in cutting him off long before he arrives at Tulle. He will probably cross the Alier at the ferry at Saint Pierre le Moutier. I must look at a map, and see the road that he is likely to follow, but it is probable that he will make by country tracks till he strikes the main road from Moulins."

"Well, I should think, sir, that he would cross it near Aubusson, and then pass over the mountains by the road through Felletin, and come down upon Meimac, when he will be only two leagues from his castle near Correze. There is a good road from here to Aubusson, and we might take post on the road between that town and Felletin. At least, sir, we can avenge the murder of our dear master, though we have arrived too late to save him; and can rescue Mademoiselle de Pointdexter and her father."

The men, who had roused themselves and listened to the conversation with many ejaculations of fury and regret, now exclaimed that they were ready to ride on at once.

"There is no occasion for that, my friends," Desmond said. "The coach with mademoiselle can travel but slowly, especially along country roads."

"Perhaps the vicomte may take her on the saddle behind him," the intendant suggested.

"That he will not do," Desmond said. "In the fight I wounded him so sorely that he will, I think, have to be carried in a litter, and he will be in no condition for fast or long travelling, so that they certainly are not, at the present time, many leagues from the spot where they attacked us, and cannot reach Aubusson until the day after tomorrow. We might cut them off before they arrive there, but we do not know what road they may follow, and might miss them; whereas, from what you say, there can be no doubt that they would pass through Felletin."

"I think that he would be sure to come that way, sir, for if he followed the road on to Limoges questions might be asked. At any rate, sir, we might post a man at Aubusson, and another at Pont Gibaut, as he might make from that town to Felletin through the village of Croc. How many men has he with him?"

"That I cannot tell you. Some twenty mounted men, under his own leading, attacked the carriage. Two were shot by Eustace and the coachman. I disposed of two more, and my soldier servant of another. The two mounted men and the two servants probably killed two or three more, at least, before they themselves fell, so that the vicomte would only have some twelve mounted men with him. But there was another party in ambush, and I cannot say how strong they were; but probably, altogether, there would be twenty.

"There are ten of your men, after sending two off to Moulins. Now there is yourself, my servant, and I, so we shall be thirteen. With the advantage of surprise, I think that we may calculate upon an easy victory, especially as I imagine that the men employed in the affair are not de Tulle's own retainers, but some robber band that he hired for the purpose; and these, having no special interest in the matter beyond earning the pay, are not likely to make any very determined resistance."

Desmond now went back to the hotel where he had put up his horse. He found Mike awaiting him there, and the latter was delighted when he heard the news of the arrival of the party from la Vallee. Desmond's purse was but lightly furnished, and as he saw that the expenses might be heavy, he went to a jeweller's.

"I want to borrow fifty louis," he said, "on this ring. It is, I imagine, worth a good deal more, since it was a present to me from the king."

The jeweller examined the ring carefully.

"It is a valuable one, indeed, sir," he said, "and I would willingly lend you double as much upon it."

"Well, we will say seventy-five, then," Desmond said. "I think that will be ample for my purpose."

Having received the money, he returned to the inn, accompanied by Mike; and went round to the various stables in the town, where he hired fifteen horses. These were to be taken to the Soleil, at three in the morning, and the men who brought them were to take back the tired horses as security.

At that hour, the party started, and after a ride of some thirty-five miles reached Clermont, where they stabled the horses for six hours. Late that evening they arrived at Aubusson, having accomplished a journey of some seventy miles. One of the men had been left at Pont Gibaut, with orders to take a fresh horse and ride on to Aubusson, if the party they were in search of passed through the town.

At Aubusson, Desmond took a fresh horse and rode back to Pont Gibaut, enquiring at all the villages along the road whether a party of twenty men had been seen to cross the road, at any point. Then he took four hours' sleep, and at daybreak started back again, making fresh enquiries till he arrived at Aubusson. He was convinced that the band had not, at that time, crossed the road on its way south.

At ten o'clock he started out with his party, followed the road by the side of the Crorrere river—here a mere streamlet—and halted in a wood about five miles from Felletin.

At six o'clock in the afternoon, a horseman was seen coming along, and was recognized as the man who had been left at Pont Gibaut. Desmond went out to meet him. He reported that, at twelve o'clock, a party of horsemen had come down on to the road a mile to the west of the town. He had followed at a distance, and they had turned off by the track leading to Croc. They had with them a carriage and a horse litter, and were travelling slowly.

Desmond and his men at once shifted their position, and took up a post on the track between Croc and Felletin. An hour later, the party of horsemen were seen approaching the wood in which they were hidden. Desmond drew up the men, all of whom were armed with pistols, as well as swords, in line among the trees. He waited until the carriage was abreast of them, and then gave a shout, and the men at once dashed upon the escort.

Taken completely by surprise, these made but a poor fight of it. Several were shot down at once. The vicomte, whose head was enveloped in bandages, leapt into the saddle of a horse whose rider had been shot, and, drawing his sword, rode at Desmond, who was making for the door of the carriage. Expecting no such attack, he would have been taken by surprise had not Mike, who saw his danger, shouted a warning, and at the same moment discharged his pistol. The ball struck de Tulle in the forehead, and he fell back dead.

His fall at once put an end to the conflict. The robbers, who had lost some eight of their number, at once turned their horses' heads and rode off at full gallop.

As Desmond drew bridle by the carriage, the door opened, and the baron leapt out.

"By what miracle have you effected our rescue, my dear Monsieur Kennedy?" he exclaimed. "My daughter told me that she saw you and your servant break your way through these brigands, and ride off. She has been suffering an agony of grief for Philip, whom she saw shot. Have you any news of him?"

"None, sir. I, too, saw him fall, but whether he was killed, or only wounded, I am unable to say. I have sent two men to bring him into Moulins, and I trust they will find that he is only wounded."

"My daughter saw you cut down that villain with a terrible blow. We have not seen him since, but we know that he was carried on a horse litter behind the carriage."

"At any rate, he will trouble you no more, Baron. My man shot him through the head, just as he was riding to attack me from behind."

"Thank God! We are saved from further persecutions! And now, tell me how you came to be here."

"It was simple enough, Baron. I found twelve men, with Monsieur de la Vallee's intendant, at Roanne. Philip, who feared that the vicomte would endeavour to make a further effort to repair his fortune, by carrying your daughter off on the road, sent a messenger to his intendant to ride at once, with twelve men, to meet us; and, had all gone well, they would have joined us fully two days' journey north of Nevers. The messenger was attacked on the way, robbed of his letter and purse, and left for dead. He managed to crawl to Nevers, and there, being too weak and ill to sit a horse, he hired a peasant's cart and made the journey, slowly and painfully, to la Vallee. As he knew the purport of the letter, two hours after his arrival there the intendant started, and rode, without drawing bridle, to Roanne. There, by great good fortune, I found them, though men and horses were alike done up. Knowing, however, that the vicomte, in his wounded state, and embarrassed with the coach, could proceed but slowly, I let them have seven hours' sleep, and in the meantime hired fresh horses for them; and we rode that day to Aubusson, and this morning moved down to within five miles of Felletin. I left a man on the road to Pont Gibaut, and he brought us word that you had left the main road, and were travelling through Croc, so we moved at once to intercept you; and you know the rest."



Chapter 7: In Paris Again.

"You have indeed done well, Monsieur Kennedy," the baron said, when Desmond finished his story.

"Now, let us see to my daughter. Her maid is attending on her. She fainted when the fight began. She is not of a fainting sort, but the trials of the last few weeks, and her belief that de la Vallee was killed, have very much upset her."

"No wonder," Desmond said. "It must have been terrible, indeed, to lose her lover, and to know that she was again in the power of that villain.

"And you, Baron; how did you escape the fate that befell the rest of your convoy?"

"We had ridden close up to the tree, when suddenly there was a discharge of firearms. The two men with me fell at once. I was unhurt, but as I turned my horse he fell dead, three bullets having pierced his chest. Before I could recover my feet, the rascals were upon me. They evidently intended to take me alive, for they were provided with ropes, and, binding my arms, hurried me back to the carriage.

"By the time we got there, all was over. My faithful Eustace and the coachman lay dead by the side of the carriage. They had fought stoutly, for three of the brigands lay beside them. Six others were scattered near, and the brigands were gathered round a fallen man, who I guessed was their leader.

"I found Anne in a state of the wildest grief. She told me that she had seen Philip shot by the vicomte, just as he was attacking him, and that you in turn had cut down the villain.

"For half an hour, nothing was done, and then one, who was evidently in authority over the others, left the troop and came up to the carriage.

"'Monsieur le Baron,' he said, 'the orders of my chief are that you are to be placed in the carriage, with your daughter and her maid. If you will give your word of honour that you will not attempt to escape, or to give the alarm as you go along, or to address a word to anyone whom we may encounter, your arms will be freed, and you will be treated with all respect. If, on the contrary, you decline to give this promise, my instructions are that your feet as well as your hands are to be tied, and that you are to be gagged and placed in the bottom of the carriage. You are also to answer for your daughter and her maid; that they, too, neither by word nor gesture, shall attempt to attract the attention of anyone in the villages that we may pass through."

"It was a hard condition, but I had no choice. The idea that I should suffer the indignity of being bound and gagged, like a common malefactor, made my blood boil. I should, in that case, no more be able to give the alarm than if I had been free; therefore I gave the promise, for at least it would be a comfort, to Anne, that I should be with her and able to talk to her.

"We stopped two nights on the road, being lodged at solitary houses on the way. A guard was placed at my chamber door, and another at my window, and even had I not given my word I could not have escaped.

"And now, Monsieur Kennedy, what do you propose?"

"I think, sir, that it would be best that you should start at once, in the carriage, for Pointdexter. Monsieur Philip's intendant and his men will ride as your escort, but I do not think that there is the slightest probability of your being interfered with; for now that the vicomte is dead, these men—who were not, I think, his retainers, but a band of robbers whom he had hired for the occasion—will have no further motive for attacking you.

"I myself shall return to Aubusson, send back the horse on which I rode there, hire another, and make straight for Moulins, where I still hope that I may find Monsieur de la Vallee alive.

"Did you see the vicomte, after you were attacked?"

"No. I heard one of the men tell the fellows who were guarding us that your stroke had cut off one of his ears, and laid his cheek bare from the eye to the chin. I fancy that he was too badly hurt to come to us, but in any case he would not have cared to show himself, in so terrible a plight."

"We must admit that, with all his faults, he was brave," Desmond said; "for, in spite of his pain and weakness, and of the fact that his head was enveloped in bandages, he sprang from his litter, leapt into one of the saddles we had emptied, and, single handed, made for me, until my man cut his career short with a bullet.

"As you go through Croc, it might be well that you should send one of the villagers off to his castle, to tell them that their master is lying dead here, when doubtless they will send out a party to fetch in his body."

By this time, Mademoiselle de Pointdexter had recovered from her faint. She held out her hand to Desmond, as he stood bareheaded beside the door.

"You have rescued me again, Monsieur Kennedy," she said; "for, though life seems worthless to me now, you have saved me from far worse than death. That you have so saved me, for my father's sake as well as my own, I thank you with all my heart."

"I would have you still hope, mademoiselle. We know that Monsieur de la Vallee fell, but many men fall from their horses when wounded, even when the wound is not vital. I am riding at once to Moulins, and trust to find him still alive. Therefore, I pray you do not give up all hope."

"I dare not let myself hope," she said. "It would be but to suffer another blow. Still, I feel that I have so much to be thankful for that, grievous as my sorrow is, I shall try to bear it, with the help of the Holy Virgin."

The party now separated. The baron mounted one of the horses left behind by the brigands, and with the men from la Vallee started for Pointdexter; while Desmond, with Mike Callaghan, rode back to Aubusson.

There they slept for a few hours, and then obtained fresh horses and started for Moulins, where they arrived late in the evening. They alighted at the Soleil, where Desmond had ordered the two men, who had gone on from Roanne, to bring the body of Monsieur de la Vallee.

"The gentleman is not here, sir," the landlord said, as he came to the door. "He was brought into the town by the men sent out by the mayor. As, by his dress, he was evidently a gentleman of quality, they took him straight to the Couronne."

"Was he alive?"

"Yes, sir; but, as I hear, the surgeons are unable to decide yet whether he will live. The men you sent here arrived the day after he was brought in. They told me that you would return, and put their horses here, but they are now in attendance on the wounded gentleman, who, it seems, is their lord."

"Thank God, he is alive!" Desmond exclaimed. "I have news for him that will do more than the surgeons can to restore him to himself."

Leaving Mike to see the horses stabled, he hurried away to the other hotel. He sent up his name, and one of the surgeons came down.

"Monsieur de la Vallee is very ill," he said, "although his wound is not necessarily mortal. This morning we succeeded in extracting the ball, but he is in a terribly weak state. He is unable to speak above a whisper, and does not seem to care to make any effort. It would appear that he even does not wish to live."

"I have news that will put fresh life into him."

"Then by all means go in and see him, sir. We have thought that he is fast sinking; but if the news you bring can rouse him into making an effort to live, he may yet recover. I will go in and give him a strong restorative, and tell him that you are here."

In three or four minutes, he came to the door of the chamber, and beckoned to Desmond to enter.

"The sound of your name has roused him from the lethargy, into which he seemed sinking," he whispered. "When I told him that I could not allow you to enter, until he had taken the draught that I gave him, he swallowed it eagerly."

Desmond went up to the bedside, and took the hand which lay on the coverlet. The pressure was slightly returned, and Philip's lips moved, but he spoke so faintly that Desmond had to lean over him, to hear the words.

"I am glad, indeed, that you are safe and sound. I have been reproaching myself, bitterly, that I should have brought you into this fatal business. As to the rest of it, I dare not even think of it; but I shall die all the easier for knowing that you have escaped."

"I escaped for a good purpose, Philip. I have good news for you. Monsieur le Baron and mademoiselle are on their way to Pointdexter, under the guard of your men."

"Is it possible, Desmond, or are you only saying it to rouse me?"

"Not at all, Philip. You do not suppose that, even for that purpose, I would hold out false hopes to you; or tell an untruth on a matter so vital to your happiness."

Philip's eyes closed, but his lips moved, and Desmond knew that he was returning thanks to God for this unlooked-for news.

"How did it happen?" Philip said, after a silence of some minutes.

His voice was much stronger than before, and there was a faint touch of colour in his cheeks. The surgeon nodded approvingly to Desmond, and murmured, "I think that he will live."

"It is too long a story to tell you in full, now," Desmond said. "Seeing that all was lost, that you were down, and that further resistance was absolutely fruitless, Mike and I cut our way out; the more easily since I had struck down their leader, de Tulle, and most of his band had crowded round him. At Roanne I found your men, who had just arrived there. It matters not now why they had been detained. I got fresh horses for them and rode for Correze, placed an ambush, and turned the tables upon them. Mike shot the vicomte, and we easily defeated his followers, and rescued the baron and his daughter. I sent them to Pointdexter under charge of your intendant and followers, and rode hither, hoping against hope that I might find you still alive. Your two men, who came on here, could have told you that I had escaped."

"I did not allow them to speak to monsieur," the surgeon said, "or even to see him. They are below, greatly grieved at being refused entry; but I told them that any agitation might be fatal to their master, and that they could do nothing for him if they came up; for indeed, up to the time when we extracted the ball, he was unconscious.

"And now, monsieur, I think that it were best you should retire. I shall give Monsieur de la Vallee a soothing draught. A night's rest will be of vital importance to him. And now that you have relieved his mind of the load that has evidently weighed upon him, I think there is little doubt that he will soon fall asleep."

"I will go and have supper," Desmond said, "for I have ridden fifty miles since I last ate, and then it was but a piece of bread with a draught of wine. After that I will, with your permission, return here, and if you tell me that he sleeps, will take my place by his bedside till morning."

"To that I have no objection," the surgeon said. "I and a colleague have, one or other, been with him since he was brought in; and I shall be glad of a rest, myself."

Desmond returned to the Soleil, where he had left Mike. The latter, who had just finished his supper, was delighted to hear that de la Vallee was likely to recover. After satisfying his own hunger, Desmond returned to the Couronne. He went upstairs, and, taking off his riding boots, stole to the door of his friend's chamber. It stood a little ajar, and, pushing it open noiselessly, he entered.

The surgeon, who was sitting at the bedside, rose at once.

"He is asleep already," he whispered, "and is breathing quietly. I think it likely that he will not stir until tomorrow morning. I shall be here at six. If he wakes, and there is any change, send for me at once."

After he had left the room, Desmond took his place on the fauteuil by the bedside. For a time, he thought over the singular chain of adventures that he had gone through. Gradually, in spite of his efforts, his eyelids drooped. De la Vallee had not moved, and, being dead tired by the exertions of the past four days, he fell into a deep sleep, from which he did not awake until daylight streamed into the room.

Shocked at having thus given way, he looked anxiously at de la Vallee, and was relieved to find that he was lying exactly in the same position, and had evidently slept without once waking. Half an hour later, Philip opened his eyes, looked wonderingly at him, and then said:

"So, it was not all a good dream, Desmond! You are really here, and your news is true?"

"Certainly, it is true, Philip. By this time Mademoiselle de Pointdexter and her father are far on the way home. They were to have travelled on to Argentan, and then through Aurillac, striking the Lozere at Entraigues and proceeding along its banks to Mende, and thence by a road over the hills to Villefort, where they would be twenty miles from Pointdexter. The carriage was to be left behind at their first halting place. Mademoiselle was then to ride, and her maid to be carried behind one of your men, by which means they would travel more than twice as fast as they would do, if encumbered by the carriage. The baron said that he would spare no pains to get home as quickly as possible, and would send a man on, some hours ahead of him, to see that fresh horses were in readiness for the whole party at each town they came to."

"Now tell me all about it, Desmond. I feel another man. Your good news, and a long night's sleep, have done wonders for me. Now, please tell me all about the affair."

Seeing that Philip was so much stronger that he could hear, without being overexcited, the story of the rescue, Desmond related all the details to him.

"You have indeed done wonders," Philip said. "You do not seem to know what fatigue is. How strange that you, whose name I had never heard until ten days back, should have rendered to Baron Pointdexter and myself two such inestimable services.

"And so, after all your exertions and fatigue, you have been keeping watch at my bedside all night?"

"I am ashamed to say that I have not been keeping watch, Philip," Desmond replied with a smile. "I had intended to, but you were sleeping so quietly, and everything was so still, that I went off and slept, as soundly as you have done, until within half an hour of the time when you opened your eyes; but I am sure that I should have awoke at once, had you moved."

"Then I am glad that I did not move, Desmond, for you must sorely need a long sleep, after having passed three days and almost three nights in the saddle."

The surgeons now arrived, and were delighted at the change that had taken place in their patient.

"And when shall I be fit to travel, doctor?"

"Ah, well, we will talk of that in another fortnight's time. You need absolute quiet, for were you to move, before your wound is fairly healed, inflammation might set in, and that would throw you back for a very long time. You have had a very narrow escape, and you are fortunate, indeed, to have got off with only a trifling detention."

"But I might be carried in a horse litter?"

"Certainly not, at present," the surgeon said decidedly. "Possibly, in ten days, you might without danger be so carried, providing they take you in short stages and with easy-paced horses; but I should say that it would be still better, were you to be carried on men's shoulders. There is never any difficulty in hiring men, and you could get relays every eight or ten miles, while it would be difficult to get horses accustomed to such work."

"You don't think that I should be able to ride, doctor?"

"Certainly not in less than a month, probably not in six weeks."

"Then I must be carried," Philip said. "I should work myself into the fever you talk of, if I were to be kept here.

"What are your plans, Desmond?"

"I have not thought of them, yet. At any rate, I shall stay with you till you are well enough to start."

"I could not think of that, Desmond."

"You have no say in the matter, Philip. In the first place, you will get on all the faster for my being with you. In the next place, ten days of my leave are already expired, and were we to go on straight to Pointdexter, I should only have a few days there before starting back for Paris, and I must therefore postpone my visit to some future time. I can stay here ten days, accompany you some four days on your journey, and then turn back again."

"A nice way of spending a month's holiday!" Philip grumbled.

"It will be a holiday that I shall long look back to," Desmond said quietly, "and with pleasure. I do not say that I should not have enjoyed myself at the baron's chateau, for that I should have done; but the adventures that I have gone through will remain in my mind, all my life, as having gained the friendship of yourself, the baron, and his daughter."

"Friendship seems to me too mild a word for it, Desmond. You have earned a gratitude so deep that it will be a pain to us, if we cannot show it in deeds."

"And now, Philip," Desmond said, changing the subject abruptly, "I suppose that you will be, at once, sending off one of your men with the news that you are in a fair way towards recovery. Mademoiselle de Pointdexter is suffering at the thought that you were probably killed. I did my best to give her hope, but without much success. Your two retainers have been fretting greatly that they were not allowed to see you, but I think that now they can be brought up, and you can choose one of them to act as your messenger. He will, of course, ride post, and can arrive at Pointdexter very soon after the baron, if indeed he does not get there first. If he starts at once, and changes horses at each place, he may be there by tomorrow at noon, if not earlier; for it is not more, I believe, than a hundred and twenty miles to Pointdexter. If you will dictate a letter for him to take, I will write it for you."

"It must be a short one," the surgeon said, "just a few words. Monsieur de la Vallee has talked more than is good for him."

Half an hour later the messenger started, carrying a note with a few words from Philip to Anne, and a longer letter from Desmond to the baron. Four days later answers were received. The messenger had arrived at Pointdexter two hours before the travellers reached home, and Anne's joy at the news that, not only was Philip alive, but might in a short time be with her, was deep indeed. The baron wrote to Desmond, as well as to Philip, again expressing the deep gratitude of himself and his daughter, greatly regretting that he should not have the opportunity, at present, of thanking him personally. With the letter the messenger brought a bag of money, concerning which he wrote:

"You have, I know, dear Monsieur Kennedy, expended a considerable sum of money in hiring relays of horses, for yourself and Monsieur de la Vallee's men; and this, of course, is a debt you cannot object to my repaying. Without knowing the exact sum, I have roughly calculated the probable amount, and forward it to you by the messenger who will bring you this letter."

Desmond had no hesitation in accepting the money. The baron had evidently taken considerable pains to calculate the sums that he must have laid out, in order not to hurt his feelings by sending a larger sum than he had spent, for the amount contained in the bag was but a few louis over his disbursements. He at once rode over to Roanne and redeemed his ring, which had proved of more value to him than he had ever anticipated.

At the end of the ten days, Philip was strong enough to walk across the room, and the surgeon gave permission for him to start, if, instead of being carried all the way, he would be taken to Lyons, which was but twenty miles distant, and there take boat down the Rhone to Viviers. Desmond went with him to Lyons, and saw him comfortably bestowed on board a craft going down the river, and there left him in charge of his own retainers. Then, accompanied by Mike, whose wound was now well healed, he rode back to Paris by comparatively easy stages, arriving there on the day before his leave was up. He reported himself to the colonel.

"So you have not been to Pointdexter after all! I received a long letter a week ago from the baron, sent by special messenger, giving me a full account of your doings, which reads like a chapter of romance. He mentioned that he had also written to the king, denouncing the conduct of the Vicomte de Tulle; and stating that, in the fight between his own rescuers and the vicomte's band, the latter was killed, and doing full justice to the part you played in the affair. I had a message from His Majesty yesterday, ordering that you should, as soon as you returned, go at once to Versailles, in order that he might question you further on the affair.

"I have another piece of news for you. We have received orders to march in three days' time, which is a fortunate circumstance for you, for there can be no doubt that, however gallantly and well you have behaved in this affair, and in whatever light His Majesty may view it, you have incurred the enmity of de Tulle's family and connections, and the air of Paris would not be healthy for you, for a time. I need not say that I have read the baron's letter to your comrades, and that they fully shared with me the admiration I feel at your conduct."

"Had I better start at once for Versailles, sir?"

"I think so. The king is not pleased at being kept waiting. He is sure to ask you when you arrived. You had better take one of my horses. I will order it to be brought round, and shall be at your quarters by the time you have put on your full uniform."

The king had just returned from hunting when Desmond arrived at the palace, and gave his name to one of the ushers. Five minutes later, he was conducted to the king's dressing room.

"This is a serious business, young sir, in which you have been engaged," the king said shortly to Desmond, as he entered.

"I am aware of that, Sire, and yet I am well assured that every officer in Your Majesty's service would have acted as I did, under similar circumstances."

"The Baron de Pointdexter has written to us fully on the matter," the king said, "but we wish to hear the account from your own lips. When did you return to Paris?"

"But two hours since, Sire."

"Then you have lost no time in presenting yourself here. Now, tell us the whole matter, omitting no detail."

Desmond told the story fully. He was interrupted once by the king.

"How was it that Monsieur de la Vallee's people were at Roanne?"

Desmond then related the fears that he and Philip had entertained, lest the vicomte should make another attempt to carry off Mademoiselle Pointdexter, and how, without the baron's knowledge, Philip had sent off a messenger to his intendant for a body of his men to meet them on the way; how the messenger had been intercepted and desperately wounded, and how, in consequence, instead of their being met by the party at Nevers, or north of that town, they had only reached Roanne after the attack had been made on the travellers, near Moulins.

The king asked no more questions, until Desmond finished his story.

"You did well, sir," he then said; "and the conduct of the Vicomte de Tulle was outrageous, and we should have visited him with our heaviest displeasure, had he not already received his deserts. It is intolerable that a noble gentleman, with his daughter, cannot travel along the highroads of our kingdom without being thus assaulted. It was the more scandalous when the vicomte was banished from our court for a similar attempt. The fact that he had enjoyed our favour would in no degree have mitigated—indeed it would have increased—our anger at his conduct, since it would have seemed as if he had relied upon it for immunity for his action. Surely, such a belief would have been an erroneous one. The law must be observed, and the higher placed a man is, the more is he bound to set an example of obedience to it.

"We thank you, sir, for having thwarted so daring and villainous a scheme. We have not yet sent an answer to the Baron de Pointdexter, because we wished your report of the matter before doing so. We shall now cause him to be informed of our indignation at the plot against his person and that of his daughter, and our satisfaction that they have escaped from it.

"You have begun your career well, indeed, young sir. Your regiment is about to start for the frontier. We shall direct your colonel to report to us, from time to time, as to your conduct, and shall see that your promotion is in accordance with your actions, and shall request him to offer you any opportunity that may occur for distinguishing yourself."

Desmond rode back to Paris well satisfied with the result of the interview. He had not been slow in noticing that, although the king's approval of his actions had been warmly expressed in words, there was a certain coldness in the tone in which they were spoken, which showed that, although the king's sense of justice constrained him to praise, he was at heart sore at the death of one who had been a favoured companion in his sports and amusements.

On his return, he found his two friends waiting for him, at his quarters. They gave him a hearty greeting.

"You are a perfect paladin, Kennedy," O'Neil said; "and, though we are all proud of you, we cannot help feeling a little envious that such adventures have all fallen to the lot of our junior ensign. It is evident that, if you were not born with a silver spoon in your mouth, fortune determined to make up in other ways, by giving you such chances as do not fall to the lot of anyone else."

"Yes, I think I have every right to consider myself exceptionally fortunate."

"You may have been fortunate, Kennedy," O'Sullivan remarked. "The thing is, that you took advantage of the opportunities. You threw yourself into the first adventure that came your way, rescued a lovely damsel in distress, and her gratitude and that of her father attracted the king's notice, and gained that ring on your finger. In the next place, after escaping from the ruffians who attacked the coach—principally, as it seems, by cutting down their leader, and so occupying the attention of his followers—you instantly took the resolution to attempt to rescue him and his daughter, and succeeded in doing so. Another man might have stopped at Moulins, congratulating himself that he had escaped from the trap, and lamenting that he could do nothing towards again rescuing this damsel from her abductors. Of course, it was a piece of good fortune, meeting de la Vallee's men at Roanne; but I have no doubt that, if you had not done so, you would still have got to Pointdexter, gathered a force, and intercepted the vicomte's party."

"It would have been a very near thing, O'Sullivan. Changing horse at every post, I might have got to Pointdexter from Roanne in twenty-four hours; but I doubt whether, even allowing that no time was lost in getting the men together, I could have got to Tulle before them. They had but one hundred and fifty miles to travel, I should have had still farther; and, as they would have had three days' start, they should have been there before me; for I heard from the baron that, in addition to the four horses in the coach, they had four others, ridden by troopers, fastened to it where the road was bad."

"What would you have done if they had got to the vicomte's chateau—it is, I believe, a strong place—before you could intercept them?"

"I cannot say what I should have done. I thought the matter over and over again as we rode. It seemed absurd to think of attacking a chateau with only twelve men; and besides, it would have been a very serious business to assault a noble in his own castle. There would almost certainly be twenty or thirty men there, at the least, and the ringing of the alarm bell would have brought all his vassals within five miles round to his aid, at once. I have no doubt that I should have attempted something, but in what way I could form no idea, until I saw the place."

The two young men laughed.

"I believe that you would have succeeded somehow, Kennedy," O'Neil said. "After what you have done, I have an almost unlimited faith in you, and if you told me you could see no other plan than carrying off His Gracious Majesty, and taking him down to Tulle and forcing him to order this rascal vicomte to deliver up his captives, you would accomplish it."

Desmond laughed.

"The plan might be as good as another, though I own that it had not occurred to me; but it would certainly necessitate my having him held prisoner until I had got safely out of France, otherwise my fate would assuredly be to be broken on the wheel."

"Yes; I don't think His Gracious Majesty would have forgiven such an indignity, even if put upon him for a good purpose. It is almost treason even to dream of such a thing."

Desmond laughed.

"It was a purely imaginary case; but you see, not having been accustomed, as you are, to a country where the king is regarded almost as a god, I am afraid I have not that awe of him that is generally entertained here. I have, naturally, a great respect for the king whom I serve, and whose pay is a matter of the greatest importance to me; but after all, although in his service, he is not my lawful king."

"Then you would not even imagine such a thing as to take your lawful king, James, prisoner, however much the fate of someone in whom you were interested was concerned?"

Desmond did not answer at once.

"I don't know," he said at last, "what I should do, in such a case. For King James, as lawful king of my country, I have the deepest respect, and would freely venture my life in his service; but for him as a man, irrespective of his crown, I own that my admiration is not extreme, and that I should not hesitate to join in any plan for putting pressure upon him, on behalf of anyone in whom I was extremely interested, as I certainly am now in Mademoiselle de Pointdexter and Monsieur de la Vallee."

"You are a curious fellow, Kennedy," O'Neil said, with a smile, "and I should be very much puzzled if I were called upon to predict what your fate is likely to be. It seems to me that you have an equal chance of becoming a French marshal, or being broken on the wheel. Here you are, not yet seventeen. You have, as I doubt not, somewhat interfered with the king's plans, and caused him the loss of one of his personal friends. You have twice rescued a noble lady from the hands of her abductors. You have brought disgrace and death upon a member of one of the most powerful families in France. You have earned the gratitude and friendship of one of the leading nobles of Southern France, that of the fiance of his daughter, and of the daughter herself. As soon as this affair spreads abroad, you will be the object of general remark and attention. You have rendered the regiment to which you belong proud of you, its junior ensign, and made Paris emphatically too hot to hold you.

"If all this is done before you are seventeen, what may we expect when another ten years have passed over your head?"

"You had better wait for the ten years to pass, O'Neil," Desmond laughed; "by which time, perhaps, you and O'Sullivan will both have learned wisdom, and will see that, because a man happens to have gone through a very exciting adventure without discredit, it by no means proves him to be anything in the smallest degree out of the way."



Chapter 8: To Scotland.

Two days later the regiment was paraded, but no order had been received for their start, and their destination was still uncertain. The officers stood in a group, awaiting the arrival of the colonel, who entered, accompanied by Colonel Wauchop and several other Irish officers. As there had been no notice of an official inspection, there was a general feeling of surprise at the appearance of the visitors. The colonel rode up to the group of officers.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I must ask you all to accompany me to the common room. I have news of importance to give you."

He and those with him dismounted, and, followed by the wondering officers of the regiment, went into the large room where they gathered in the evening.

"The news that I am about to give you is of an important and happy nature. His Most Gracious Majesty has decided to send an expedition to Scotland, where the whole country is ready to rise in favour of our lawful king."

A cheer broke from his hearers.

"Many Scottish and Irish gentlemen," the colonel went on, "have been selected to accompany it. Among them is my friend, Colonel Wauchop, and the officers with him. The expedition will consist of six thousand French troops. I regret to say that no Irish regiments will accompany it."

A groan of disappointment followed this announcement.

"We must hope," the colonel said, "that Irish troops are not employed, only because it is intended that another expedition will sail to Ireland, in which case we may be sure that some of us will have an opportunity of fighting, again, on our own side of the water. Moreover, between France and Scotland there has long been a close connection and friendship, and the employment of French troops would, therefore, better suit the Scots than would be the case with Irishmen. Another reason perhaps is, the King of France does not like to spare his best troops, when he has sore need of them in Flanders and Spain.

"However, a number of Irish officers will accompany the expedition, for the purpose of drilling and commanding the new levies, for which work they will be far better suited, by their knowledge of English, than French officers would be. Therefore, the various Irish regiments are all to furnish a certain number of lieutenants. Generals Hamilton, Sheldon, Dorrington, and Lords Galmoy and Fitzgerald, and our friend Colonel Wauchop will be in command of the newly-raised force, having with them many Scotch officers now in the service of France.

"The secret of the expedition has been well kept, but I have known it for a fortnight, and have prepared a list of the fifteen officers who are to go. I may say that, in order to avoid partiality, I have, with one exception, selected them by lot. Those who are to go will doubtless consider themselves fortunate. Those who are to stay are still more lucky, if, as I hope, the regiment will form part of a similar expedition sent to Ireland."

He then read out the list of the officers chosen. O'Sullivan and O'Neil were both among them, and the name of Desmond Kennedy was the last read out.

"You will, gentlemen, start in an hour's time, taking the northern road through Montvidier and Arras. In each of these towns you will be joined by officers from other regiments. Colonel Wauchop will accompany you. I do not name the port from which you are to sail, and no word must be said, by you, as to the route you are to travel; but you can no doubt judge for yourselves, by the road that you are taking, what port is your destination. The French troops will be already there, and the fleet is all in readiness.

"You all have horses. You can each take your soldier servant with you, but those who do so must either hire or purchase a horse for him. All further details you will learn from Colonel Wauchop, and the paymaster will have orders to issue two months' pay to each of you, in advance. The distance will be about a hundred and fifty miles, and you will perform it in five days."

Colonel Wauchop then addressed a few words to the officers, all of whom were under the rank of captain.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you have an honourable task before you. For years we have been waiting for the day when our swords might aid to place our king upon the throne. At last it has come. I need not say that the struggle will be a severe one, and that your courage will be taxed to the utmost, but you have proved that in a score of desperate fights.

"The task before you will need tact to no ordinary degree. The Scotch are as peppery a race as the Irish are, and it will be necessary in no way to hurt their feelings, or to excite among them the smallest degree of discontent at being drilled and led by men who are not of their own race.

"And now, as we have much to do before starting, I will leave you to make your arrangements. The rendezvous for us all is in your barrack yard, and at nine o'clock we shall be here."

The colonel now left the room, and the officers eagerly and excitedly talked over the startling news that they had just heard. The greater part of those who had been selected for the service were delighted to go, while the others were equally pleased, at the thought that they might shortly be fighting for King James on the soil of Ireland.

"Sure, your honour, I wish it had been in the ould country instead of Scotland," Mike said, when he heard the news.

"I cannot say that I agree with you, Mike. In Ireland, we should find tens of thousands of brave hearts ready to join us, but they are unarmed, undrilled, and undisciplined, and would be of comparatively slight assistance to us against the English troops. Defeat would bring down fresh persecutions, fresh confiscations, and greater misery upon the land."

"Sure we would beat them, your honour."

"We might, Mike; but you must remember that we failed to do so, even when the people were armed. No doubt we shall take a certain amount of muskets and ammunition with us, but the power of England is more assuredly fixed in Ireland now than it was then—the influence of the old Irish families is broken, and even if we armed all who joined us, it would be but an armed rabble and not an army.