“Yes,” said she, smiling, “afraid he wouldn’t.  They were a good-looking lot.”

“I do not think he was speaking of you at all,” said the baroness.  “He was looking at me when—­”

“Ciel!” exclaimed Louison, laughing.  “That is why they turned suddenly and fled into the fields.”

I fled, too,—­perhaps as suddenly as the Britishers,—­to save myself the disgrace of laughter.

The great clock in the hall above-stairs tolled the hour of two.  The ladies had all gone to bed save the baroness.  The butler had started upstairs, a candelabrum in his hand.  Following him were the count and Mr. Parish, supporting the general between them.  The able soldier had overrated his capacity.  All had risen to go to their rooms.  Of a sudden we were startled by a loud rap on the front door.  A servant opened it, and immediately I heard the familiar voice of D’ri.

“Is they anybody here by the name o’ Mister Bell?” he asked.

I ran to the door, and there stood D’ri, his clothes wet, his boots muddy, for it had been raining.  Before he could speak I had my arms around him, and he sank to his knees in my embrace.  He was breathing heavily.

“Tired out—­thet’s whut’s the matter,” he muttered, leaning over on one hand.  “Come through the woods t’ save yer life, I did, an’ they was tight up t’ me all the way.”

“Poor fellow!” said the baroness, who stood at the door.  “Help him in at once and give him a sip of brandy.”

“Tuk me prisoner over there ’n the woods thet day,” said he, sinking into a chair and leaning forward, his head on his hands.  “They tuk ‘n’ they toted me over t’ Canady, an’ I tuk ‘n’ got away, ‘n’ they efter me.  Killed one on ’em thet was chasin’ uv me over ‘n the Beaver medders on the bog trail.  Hoss got t’ wallerin’ so he hed t’ come down.  Riz up out o’ the grass ‘n’ ketched holt uv ’im ‘fore he c’u’d pull a weepon.  Tuk this out uv his pocket, an’ I tried to git the boss out o’ the mire, but didn’t hev time.”

He sat erect and proudly handed me a sheet of paper.  I opened it, and read as follows:—­

“To captain Elias Wilkins, Royal Fusiliers.

“My dear Captain:  You will proceed at once across the river with a detail of five men mounted and three days’ rations, and, if possible, capture the prisoner who escaped early this morning, making a thorough search of the woods in Jefferson County.  He has information of value to the enemy, and I regard his death or capture of high and immediate importance.  I am informed that the young desperado who murdered my Lord of Pickford in the forest below Clayton June 29, escaping, although badly wounded, is lying at the country-seat of the Baroness de Ferre, a Frenchwoman, at Leraysville, Jefferson County, New York.  It would gratify me if you could accomplish one or both captures.  With respect, I am,

  “Your Obedient Servant,
    “R.  Sheaffer, General Commanding.”