“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.”