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